Stars in her eyes
I had a great night out last night. I went to the Tea rooms in Hoxton - a fearfully trendy club, run by the ex-boyfriend of the guy we went there with last night.
Now, if there is one thing I am not, and have never been, it’s trendy. I’ve struggled long and hard to get to the point with my personal style where I people don’t snicker behind their hands when I take my coat off in the pub. I think I look ok, but I’m most definitely not a style guru.
Yesterday was a bit of a nightmare. There is something alarming going on with the back of my hair that shrieks of old lady perm. If it gets longer I’ll be entering mullet territory. Not a good look. So, my friend and I descended into the cavernous toilets. They were packed with people having sex and doing lines of coke (I expect). A very well dressed blond woman was having face cream combed into her hair by some guy who just happened to be in there. I said into an unexpected lull in conversation, “Jesus, look at these people. They’ve all got fabulous shoes. I look like someone’s mum”. The blonde woman turned round. Hmm, I thought. She’s familiar.
Then I spent the rest of the evening getting make-up tips from the guy who does the slap for Faithless.
Gosh, I’m getting trendier by the minute.