it has been a long time between updates, since july! how can that be? these past three weeks have seen timothy grace these bonny shores, i watched the xx [band] and the model couple [film] in awe, had a few drunken dancing nights with friends, and waved a sad goodbye to rebecca.
this post is mostly about tim. you will like him, he is amazing.
tim lands in london early friday morning of the 7th, he is still two steps ahead of the pack, rocking the low-slung man pants with cuffs rolled up, an i-just-threw-on-any-old-tshirt that affords lucky passersby a glimpse of chest, and a wooden necklace of beads and animals [sometimes one, sometimes two]. tim looks like he spends the better part of the year cruising around the carribean, holidaying here, holidaying there.
we dump his bags and head out to, yes, you guessed it, brick lane. tim is looking for those woven leather man sandals in brown but all we find are white ones, plimsolls galore, and £15 boat shoes [which he considers but does not purchase]. we go for lunch with rebecca, anna [rebecca's sister who has just moved to london], and rodrigo at rochelle canteen [it is inside an art school in a converted shed]. rochelle canteen has been waiting patiently on my list of places to experience. tick! and in fine company too, bonus.
all weekend we are throwing comical expressions like this but i cannot remember what this particular one is about.
we walk over to the white cube in hoxton square to have a look at the gilbert & george exhibition. i like the inherent humour in work that is essentially blown-up images of oneself but tim is not too impressed by the digital manipulation. we head over to the serpentine gallery in hyde park for some more culture in the form of jeff koons' popeye series. it takes us more than an hour of walking to get there but wow our thighs look great! it is an amazing exhibition. at first glance, the works look as though they are made up of children's inflatable pool toys and the paintings are digitally printed but no, it is more complex than that. i am not great at explaining things but you can read about it here.
on saturday i was all prepped to show tim a typical east london day, you know, lunch down broadway market way, a lie down in london fields, a swim in the pond at hampstead heath. just as we get to broadway market, my friend bahbak sends word he is going to the wimbledon car boot sale with a friend. we about-turn and rush to meet him at old street tube for an afternoon of rummaging, hard bargaining, and coming away with the best junk this side of the thames. tim picked up a 1960s west german alarm clock and travel backgammon set [so envious]. i bought the photograph album i wrote about last update, a glass paperweight owl [dark caramel colour], a typewriter [black with silver-rimmed round keys which are satisfyingly deep], a japanese dog print, a wooden folding ruler, and ysl perfume [it looks real enough], all for £25. good, no?
some of the tasteful goodies wimbledon has to offer.
it is saturday night and we are aching for a big night out. dressed in our cruise [tim] and fashion plate [me] best we pick up rodrigo from the top of brick lane, traipse to rebecca's rooftop for a drink or two, then the bus gathers everyone into its friendly arms and transports us to dalston. we lose rebecca and anna on the way but our trio ends up in a peruvian restaurant with a dance floor downstairs. it is so so but to be honest, mixing my drinks all night was not a good idea and that was what drew the evening to an early close. oh, that and r spinning me around the dance floor in a poor attempt to stop me from passing out did not help. if tim had only been here the weekend before, i could have shown him an amazing night. the saturday before, after rodrigo's painting party, we strip off our paint splattered rags and don looks worthy of a phone call to vogue. i wore the lover dress i bought in sydney in june with the cutaway sides and not one person tried to talk to me. how can that be? i was seriously on form that night. r explained that as a group we were too intimidating. oh. we start downstairs at electricity showrooms in shoreditch, it has a light up dance floor. the djs were spinning the best disco i had ever heard [and i do not even like disco] until someone played the black eyed peas and we hastily pack our handbags and leave. one bus ride later we are downstairs in the basement of some shop in dalston at a night called hot boy dancing spot. you know how gay clubs are always full of hot [mostly straight] women? this was no exception. apologies for playing the sexuality card, but we all know it is true. r tries his luck with anything that moves and i make an unsuccessful attempt to flatter a woman in black bloomers. since when does the flutter of dark lashes, a compliment, and a dance not equal success? ladies are hard work these days. we snort chemicals on the dance floor, things get a bit messy, we fall into taxis and go home.
it is a beautiful day on sunday, tim's last full day in london. tim buys a pair of spiffy boat shoes at the flower market on columbia road and makes audio recordings of the flower sellers. if you ever see him, ask him to play them to you. i read later that maggie gyllenhaal was at the flower market that same morning. we meet up with tim's friend and go for a swim in the pond at hampstead heath. stop laughing, this is the closest i am going to get to water this summer. i love having a dip at the heath, everyone is happy and sun-kissed.
i took a knee melting photograph of tim in classic pin-up pose on his towel but, umm, he was snoozing at the time [and did not consent] so you will have to make do with this.
on our way to meet rodrigo for afternoon tea at the wolseley, tim is, you know, relaxed and wears his shirt casually unbuttoned all the way to the front door of the wolseley [where we cave in to propriety]. you can imagine tim made quite the impression on the tube passengers, young and old. they were either budgeting for a gym membership or thinking of proposing marriage. afternoon tea at the wolseley was a delight as usual, it was fun to pretend to be a part of london's rich set for an afternoon.
afternoon tea at the wolseley with tim and rodrigo [not pictured].
we walk over to the white cube in hoxton square to have a look at the gilbert & george exhibition. i like the inherent humour in work that is essentially blown-up images of oneself but tim is not too impressed by the digital manipulation. we head over to the serpentine gallery in hyde park for some more culture in the form of jeff koons' popeye series. it takes us more than an hour of walking to get there but wow our thighs look great! it is an amazing exhibition. at first glance, the works look as though they are made up of children's inflatable pool toys and the paintings are digitally printed but no, it is more complex than that. i am not great at explaining things but you can read about it here.
on saturday i was all prepped to show tim a typical east london day, you know, lunch down broadway market way, a lie down in london fields, a swim in the pond at hampstead heath. just as we get to broadway market, my friend bahbak sends word he is going to the wimbledon car boot sale with a friend. we about-turn and rush to meet him at old street tube for an afternoon of rummaging, hard bargaining, and coming away with the best junk this side of the thames. tim picked up a 1960s west german alarm clock and travel backgammon set [so envious]. i bought the photograph album i wrote about last update, a glass paperweight owl [dark caramel colour], a typewriter [black with silver-rimmed round keys which are satisfyingly deep], a japanese dog print, a wooden folding ruler, and ysl perfume [it looks real enough], all for £25. good, no?
some of the tasteful goodies wimbledon has to offer.
it is saturday night and we are aching for a big night out. dressed in our cruise [tim] and fashion plate [me] best we pick up rodrigo from the top of brick lane, traipse to rebecca's rooftop for a drink or two, then the bus gathers everyone into its friendly arms and transports us to dalston. we lose rebecca and anna on the way but our trio ends up in a peruvian restaurant with a dance floor downstairs. it is so so but to be honest, mixing my drinks all night was not a good idea and that was what drew the evening to an early close. oh, that and r spinning me around the dance floor in a poor attempt to stop me from passing out did not help. if tim had only been here the weekend before, i could have shown him an amazing night. the saturday before, after rodrigo's painting party, we strip off our paint splattered rags and don looks worthy of a phone call to vogue. i wore the lover dress i bought in sydney in june with the cutaway sides and not one person tried to talk to me. how can that be? i was seriously on form that night. r explained that as a group we were too intimidating. oh. we start downstairs at electricity showrooms in shoreditch, it has a light up dance floor. the djs were spinning the best disco i had ever heard [and i do not even like disco] until someone played the black eyed peas and we hastily pack our handbags and leave. one bus ride later we are downstairs in the basement of some shop in dalston at a night called hot boy dancing spot. you know how gay clubs are always full of hot [mostly straight] women? this was no exception. apologies for playing the sexuality card, but we all know it is true. r tries his luck with anything that moves and i make an unsuccessful attempt to flatter a woman in black bloomers. since when does the flutter of dark lashes, a compliment, and a dance not equal success? ladies are hard work these days. we snort chemicals on the dance floor, things get a bit messy, we fall into taxis and go home.
it is a beautiful day on sunday, tim's last full day in london. tim buys a pair of spiffy boat shoes at the flower market on columbia road and makes audio recordings of the flower sellers. if you ever see him, ask him to play them to you. i read later that maggie gyllenhaal was at the flower market that same morning. we meet up with tim's friend and go for a swim in the pond at hampstead heath. stop laughing, this is the closest i am going to get to water this summer. i love having a dip at the heath, everyone is happy and sun-kissed.
i took a knee melting photograph of tim in classic pin-up pose on his towel but, umm, he was snoozing at the time [and did not consent] so you will have to make do with this.
on our way to meet rodrigo for afternoon tea at the wolseley, tim is, you know, relaxed and wears his shirt casually unbuttoned all the way to the front door of the wolseley [where we cave in to propriety]. you can imagine tim made quite the impression on the tube passengers, young and old. they were either budgeting for a gym membership or thinking of proposing marriage. afternoon tea at the wolseley was a delight as usual, it was fun to pretend to be a part of london's rich set for an afternoon.
afternoon tea at the wolseley with tim and rodrigo [not pictured].
returning east in the back of the bus on a lazy sunday afternoon with the boys.
tim leaves the next day. london is a very transient city, people come and go. tim was barely here but it was such a pleasure to spend time with a familiar face. rebecca left for berlin last saturday. i am happy for her, of course, but sad for me. i am in denial about her leaving.
rebecca hosted goodbye drinks on her rooftop. she is very difficult to photograph.
just two non-timothy items of note.
one/ have you heard the xx? you should. they are amazing. you know when music starts to sound same-y and nothing is exciting you anymore then b a m ! you hear something that just blows your socks off? the xx do that for me. when i found out they were headlining london dates, i sort of begged r to work his charm and snag some tickets. he did, it was worth it, they played a mesmerising and intimate set. how can kids so young make such heartbreaking songs?
two/ have you seen william klein's 1977 film, the model couple [or le couple temoin]? look for it. it makes an interesting and humorous comment on reality television shows that are so popular today.
tim leaves the next day. london is a very transient city, people come and go. tim was barely here but it was such a pleasure to spend time with a familiar face. rebecca left for berlin last saturday. i am happy for her, of course, but sad for me. i am in denial about her leaving.
rebecca hosted goodbye drinks on her rooftop. she is very difficult to photograph.
just two non-timothy items of note.
one/ have you heard the xx? you should. they are amazing. you know when music starts to sound same-y and nothing is exciting you anymore then b a m ! you hear something that just blows your socks off? the xx do that for me. when i found out they were headlining london dates, i sort of begged r to work his charm and snag some tickets. he did, it was worth it, they played a mesmerising and intimate set. how can kids so young make such heartbreaking songs?
two/ have you seen william klein's 1977 film, the model couple [or le couple temoin]? look for it. it makes an interesting and humorous comment on reality television shows that are so popular today.
i hope you are well.
love
o
