Challenging myself to a photo a day for the whole of 2013. Mostly with my phone. Could be interesting. Or not.
Showing posts with label Soho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Soho. Show all posts
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
Day 281. False advertising.
The pre-launch teaser campaign included a poster that said "Soho _ _ _ _ _ _, no hard feelings' and while I am impressed by the developments to date, in and around Kings Cross station, I can't imagine Soho Square is shaking in its knee high boots. So far so good but let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's still some way to go yet.
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
Day 197. Dean Street Townhouse.
A cheeky couple of days in London to celebrate Will's birthday. I know! Taking Bea out of school. How shocking.
What the hell. We checked into The Nadler (gorgeous), headed out to dinner at Dean St. Townhouse (delicious) and strolled through Soho back to our hotel (eye opening).
I drank fizz from old school champagne glasses, ate a sensationally cooked steak and generally enjoyed spending an evening with my family.
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Day 99. Part of this world, part of another.
The House of St Barnabas, a charity based in Soho, has announced a season of
talks entitled ’37 things you need to know about Modern Britain’ kicking off on April 25th with ‘The Secret Meaning of Shoes’.
I’d pay good money to hear the possible meaning that lies
behind these beauties worn by Robin Wight, President of Engine, who
describes his role as being “to generally make a nuisance of myself, in order to help us achieve our dreams". I'm
immediately reminded of a line from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: “We are the music makers, we are the dreamers of dreams" and without doubt Gene Wilder, with his own eccentricities, would have rocked these shoes - although
he would probably have requested a different
colour.
The purple patent leather and sharp points alone must
provide a host of insights before taking into account the eye-catching suit and
fuchsia and vanilla socks (well I can hardly say pink and cream given the whole
ensemble); that’s a lot of material to play with.
I could also add that rumour has it Robin used to wear a
cape to work (please let this be true) but
he’s since abandoned it in favour of a pink mac. This may be a more practical
sartorial statement but it's not quite so useful for playing superheroes or
exiting a room with the swirling sweep of a moustachioed villain.
It’s not unusual for me to feel provincially dressed when I’m
in the Great Portland Street office, after all high heels and Norfolk farm
tracks aren’t a winning combination, but when I feel this way standing next to
a man I know it’s time to take action.
Tomorrow I shall be bold – perhaps I’ll wear fuschia socks…
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