On Wednesday I spent an absolutely fantastic day in Covent Garden, with my friend Eileen. She’s a super successful woman who loves clothes, shopping and finding new designs. I do two wardrobe edits with Eileen a year S/S and A/W to collate and organise all the finds she adds during the year, also we identify any possible gaps in her wardrobe and edit any multi purchases that may have happened.
In the evening we went to see Madame Butterfly, my first Opera, I was very excited. The costumes and the staging were magical, I absolutely love a kimono and often enjoy a kimono inspired jacket. The story was very moving, especially the last part where Madame Butterfly is persuaded to give away her son to her husband and his new wife, she then kills herself. At this point my eyes were flooding with tears, I left the theatre rather raw from emotion.
I’ve diverged slightly... We were in London to re-discover Covent Garden, have a really good catch up and have some lunch watching the world go by. I had created an interesting list of shops to explore. We were’t looking for anything in particular but in Agnes B, I spotted the perfect boots for Eileen. I was able to do this because we’d had a recent wardrobe edit and I knew exactly that these boots would be an improved replacement for her current boots. They were elegant, had attitude, would work with virtually anything and had the perfect heel hight for day wear. Eileen says “Sometimes you need someone else to do the spotting for you, everyone needs a stylist in their lives.”
After the theatre, to put some fresh air back to those teary eyes, we caught a rickshaw back to Victoria Station. Very thrilling, I’d recommend it. We paid and tipped the man (who’d worked incredibly hard cycling us). Then we dashed off to catch the train. On the train Eileen suddenly realised she didn’t have her Agnes B bag with her old Acne boots in (She had changed into new boots earlier on that day). It was a very late train, she said never mind I’ll let them go it’s not likely I’ll ever get them back. I said no they’re Acne pistol boots, we need to try and get them back. So we jumped off the train and ran back to where we’d left the rickshaw and driver. To my delight it was still there but no sign of the driver. We looked around and two seconds later he rushed up to us with the bag of boots in his hand saying he’d looked for us everywhere. It was a fantastic finish to an amazing day :o)
