We got asked for drinks after dinner, but we insisted desserts. Andrea diagonsed the cute guy (second from right) to be a single child, playboy, mont blanc watch wearer Hongkie. And so we got free desserts after discussing about my fetishes for naked men. (Terry Richardson Coffee Book in hand) Also see below.
I had an amazing frontal view. Haha. This is Andrea's P.O.V.
After two Soho breezers and a bottle of small vintage 2007 white wine, we got so pissed high we were singing and laughing all the way home. The route which we walked from Dean Street to Swinton's in our pretty Primark high heel shoes. A three kilometer walk ok!
We were completely knocked out and luckily, we had an very extremely singaporean catholic-high, live in sixth ave, solicitor neighbour accompanying us for the night."One nation under CCTV", anyway.
Black Gardenia. Lovely owner, Simon, in blue suit asked us why we were drinking in the streets and commented it was extremely un-ladylike. We were momentarily stunned at his question; thinking it was probably against the law. He then insisted we head in first before our friend comes. An amazingly quaint unbelievably tiny jazz bar with live band. I'm standing next to the musician, Phil who commented I was a "cute little thing".
We thought Guo Sun was ungentlemanly, but he bought us drinks! And me another glass, when I smashed and broke my first one.
Simon. Amazing fashion with leopard print pointed shoes.
The oh- so cute toilet at Black Gardenia!
I bravely wore my red tights to a Viktor&Rolf exhibition at the Barbican. VIKTOR&ROLF COUTURE PIECES IN FRONT OF OUR VERY EYES!
The apparently famous "begels" on Brick Lane, the road of all fashion vintage stores. Full of graffitti, stained and packed with artsy people on a rainy thursday.
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