Then we moved to Zizzi’s to fuel up before the show. The place was rammed, and the waitress wasn’t sure we could get our meals on time, so she suggested we got pizza. We did that, and we got our yummy pizzas in less than 10 minutes! They were warm, filling, and full of cheese and goodness. As the slowest eater in the universe, I have no idea how I managed to swallow ¾ of my Four Seasons – because plain ham is not exactly my favourite season. We also had a long glass of extremely urgent caffeine provided – for a reasonable price – by The Coca Cola Company.
Rushing for ‘final’ rehearsals and whatnots, we went to The Strand, the same venue that hosted Plus London last year, so there was a sense of comforting familiarity. Most of the stalls were being installed, and most of the people involved were very friendly and lovely – except, of course, the aforementioned, who were the first to leave after making us walk around on frumpy clothes not even our mothers would wear. (Later, they tried to silence us all with tacky handbags. Good eBay money for Christmas!)
Londoners have already spoken wonders about Red Bows Boutique, but I had yet to experience it in person. I couldn’t go to the store itself, so I was glad they were present at the party. I loved the two fantastic people involved with it, but I don’t know any names because I’m shy and awkward. But they are amazing, and their clothes were nice. I couldn’t really browse properly and shop because I didn’t stay long enough for that. One day I will.
There were also a few things from ASOS that weren’t precisely my cup of tea, but that were pretty. Also, a company called Navabi that have loads of brands on their website and say they have workwear – for those of you who have jobs. And Elomi. HOLY SHIT, ELOMI.
They were doing free bra fittings. Last time I was fitted, I was smaller, younger, and with no hypothyroidism yet. So you can guess I desperately needed an update done by a professional. For my wedding, I had measured myself to get something nice and smooth, and that was what I was wearing that night. That, which used to be ‘my best bra’.
The service was very popular, so we all had to queue up and fill in a questionnaire. Nevertheless, the waiting was pretty pleasant, as one of the helpers was very caring and funny. All the time she would ask us ‘do you want anything to drink? I can go upstairs and get you a glass.’ I’m guessing she wanted a glass of wine too. I should have told her to bring me some, so we could drink together, but I had already had enough alcohol to bear the whole marching-on-nanwear experience minutes ago. But then my time came, and it was my turn to be measured.
Remember I was wearing ‘my best bra’? Well, the bra-fitting lady went all Gok Wan and pulled tons of extra centimetres off the band. I was wearing a larger bra, but a smaller cup. From millennia, I was used to the idea of being part of the itty bitty titty committee; but thanks to this lady, I now know I’m more Baywatch! Well, not precisely Baywatch, but not a B cup either. Nor a C cup. And they looked so nice and in their right place now, so I was willing to buy the new bra. Luckily, it was for free! And with a matching pair of knickers I have yet to try, but that look stunning. I will surely get more lingerie from them when I can.
I was running out of battery, so I couldn’t take any pictures, but you’ve probably seen the cupcakes courtesy of Wendy, and the glamorous people, and the snooooooooooooooooooow. Once again, Diana had her pop-up photo studio, so expect tons of glossy images coming soon.
Thank you so much, Claire, for taking such a mammoth operation upon your shoulders; Gina, for coordinating the models team in moving all around the city; and everyone else for being so friendly, caring, unique, and fearless.
So yeah, snooooooooow. My train was meant to depart at 22:25, so I had to be superquick and say hello-goodbye and run away, being delivered one last goodie bag by the gentlemen upon the door. After taking a taxi for 25 pounds from Embankment to St. Pancras, I arrived just on time to watch my train go away. Stumbled upon two Derby girls on the queue of the Tickets stall, and, united in despair, went to the Information desk to get suggested to go to Bedford. So we did. Took a really slow train to Bedford that would have taken the same amount of time of that train we missed to Midlands, while the snow kept falling harder and harder outside. Once in Bedford, we took a taxi to Leicester. It was a bit expensive, but not as much as imagined. It cost 100 pounds split between me and the older sister, but I expected at least 200 pounds, so it was like a post-Christmas miracle. Or more like everywhere else in Britain not being as ridiculously expensive as London. Two and a half hours later, I stopped the taxi on a street near my house, got off, and walked all the way in the snow with the headphones on. Saw a fox coming out of a kindergarten, and then get inside again after seeing me. A few minutes later, I saw my husband coming down to meet me, and we hugged and kissed in the snow like in the movies.
The Tickets man had also suggested we stayed in a hotel and tried departing the morning after, but I did not want to spend another night away from home. Also, it could have gotten a lot worse. So that Sunday, instead of waiting for hours to crawl up to the Midlands for a million pounds, I was having breakfast at the tapas bar with my dearest and then watching the rugby at the pub next door. Good times!