Mine was relatively uneventful. Toiled til 6, dined at 7, arrived at a Holloway flat filled with East London strangers. Including;
I was donning this;
(God awful image, best of a disastrous bunch)I mingled with my bottle of Cava, sipping through my straw, I was polite with a forced edgy streak. & still it boiled down to my questioning what 'cool' is.
At one point in my past 'cool' was pineapples;
She was an idol of mine to boot. Realistically, she's the reason my thatch is the shade it is.
This was cool;
Some remain cool, some don't (you choose).
The fact is, I'm never going to be cool. I try too hard to portray who I want to be*
Yet when the industry you're trying to be a part of looks fairly like those featured, I may have to slip into some ill fitting gear, dance to tunes without words and swig Red Stripe.
It really isn't what you know. This angers me.
Still; I did see that netting around the face is going to be big, plus beehives (thank's Ab Fab). I may be in luck, love a full circle I do.
I left the cave-like club we ended up at, achingly hip Dalston #Occupy The Future. End of days. at 12.17 and delved into my freezer for some frozen yoghurt.
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