Thursday, 6 March 2014

V Day Victory.

You think with optimism thank god January is over. My bank balance has survived buying Annie's birthday present ; dry January is complete (not that I really gave it much effort after 4 days I decided I desperately needed a glass of wine Ab Fab style); March is on the horizon as February isn't a real month which means Spring is pretty much here, which inevitably means...SUMMER. Alas I constantly am ahead of the seasonal game and already planning my weeks spent in the Umbrian hills eating pasta, drinking wine, gazing at a number of oiled up, toned and tanned Paolos Luigis and Giorgios and this day dream blissfully continues until 13th February. 
Of course I have ignored all the build up to Valentine's Day - it has never held any significance in my spinster life and so I walk around with anti V-day blinkers on, laughing at the poor fools spending a ridiculous amount of money on half dead rose that will be half price tomorrow. Until I was all too aware that it was the day of shout about your love! My usual routine of scrolling insta whilst brushing my teeth was definitely a mistake. Flowers upon flowers, upon love messages, love notes - essentially any kind of declaration of love. I can't even pull off the 'I was sick in my mouth' scenario because I'm not 13 and I can't do that anymore, so I will tell the truth I was thoroughly depressed. I daren't even go on facebook - I think if I had I would have crawled back into bed, called any of the girls and demanded they tell me for the next 45 minutes that they loved me. 
Instead I made a plan with Juliet to get completely and utterly shit faced in the evening. Feeling giddy about my plan I decided I was going to face the day and nothing was going to bring me down...all that single ladies/ independent woman/ girlssss in the ciittaaayyyy / feminism shite. Sorry girls - I mean it with love. Made it to work without encountering any over the top PDA couples on the tube, things were looking up. Entered Vogue House and the reception was positively bursting with blooms. Eurgh. Today was going to be LONG. 
Lonely Hearts Club 

I should note V day was also day one of London Fashion Week, and since this is what I had been working towards for the past 3 weeks it was going to be a day of paper cuts from invitations, running around the cupboard (its a big cupboard) like a crazy mofo and praying that I hadn't completely fucked up all my tasks. I'll cut that bit short for you -there was only a couple of minor cock ups, that in the grand scheme of things were no biggies and actually pat on the back to Julia and I (mostly Julia - she is a complete and utter organisation whizz sponsored endlessly by Saint Laurent). 
Then. Something miraculously happened. I GOT FLOWERS! (I didn't get the heart balloons...they were just for added effect.) 

Serena, our beautiful fashion executive gave them to me - granted they were definitely sent in for her and not for me, but still I most certainly was not going to refuse them. And whilst everyone definitely had an awkies 'we feel so sorry her moment' when I quite brightly declared 'It will look like someone loves me!' I was over the bloody moon. So, with all the bitterness I felt towards public love declaration day...I had become one of the smug wankers - and I kind of loved it. And whilst I still have a huge amount of hatred for Valentine's day, today I was going to completely revel in it.
At least that was the idea whilst bouncing along to the tube station flowers in hand. Until I started to feel hideously awkward and uncomfortable with the amount of stares I got. I mean I normally get a few looks ( come on LOOK AT ME). But I often put that down to humming BeyoncĂ© day in day out on a packed Victoria Line, or making awkward smiles at people on the tube because god forbid you should actually acknowledge another human being - but these stares seemed to be on another page. Another 5 minutes into the journey and I was started to see a theme with the looks I was getting and I could categorise them into the following: 
1. The Obsessive/Spoilt Girlfriend
They already had a gorgeous bunch of flowers but they look at your bunch and then look at theirs again and back at yours. The ones that were most definitely judging whose are better. (Mine were ha-ha-ha). 
2. The Cynical/Bitter Girl.
Me 8 hours previously. There were a few girls that looked me up and down and were thinking 'Christ if she can get flowers, why the hell haven't I got any?!' For that exact attitude...haters. 
3. The Complimentary Girl. 
'Lucky girl' comment, followed by an awkward smile/silence from me. Oh if only you knew the truth. 
4. That Guy.

Finally the journey was over and actually I was rather glad for it, and the Lonely Hearts Club party was about to begin. It couldn't have been a more cliched evening if we had tried. M & S ready meals, a bottle of wine each and '50 Greatest Love Songs' on tv. Pity party was well and truly in full swing. 10pm we decided enough was enough. We had 30 minutes to get even more boozed, put on lashing of mascara, pucker up and head out. A great plan until armed with journey juice on the tube we had no idea where we were going or in fact what we were doing. So we went with the worst possible option and headed to Fezz.

The rest of the night (thankfully) was a bit of a blur, except my favourite part of the night when Juliet attempted a slut drop....and just dropped to the floor and didn't get back up again. Don't worry Jules, this happens to me on a weekly basis and amidst the meat market that was Fezz it was better to hide on the floor. 

Alas V day is over, and frankly now I miss the attention on the tube - obvs because I am the ultimate attention seeker. Instead I am completely ignored (much to my dismay), along with every other person on the tube. It's strange really the lengths that we go to on public transport to be invisible: ​

  • The minute you're on the platform, headphones in. (Attempting not to be that person whose music you can still hear despite the use of headphone and scowl at them for the rest of the journey)
  • Metro/Evening Standard right in front of your face, even down the escalator. Nothing screams 'stay out of my space' more. However is it really necessary to read it whilst walking to the tube platform, this just causes injury - mostly to yourselves.
  • If you are unoccupied by either of the above of course you do not make conversation with anyone around you, even to the guy who's face is literally inches from yours. No,no instead you stare at the ground/ tube map/ weird adverts on the tube / anything other than human interaction. 
And so I will continue my non existence around London until I have flowers or Ryan Reynolds to parade around. 

Fatty BB xxx

1 comment:

  1. wo…wooo.. I like it!! Your are so fit.. And sexy, I need a personal trainer like you..

    ALOKA UST-9130