WARNING: this post has nothing, nudda, not-one-thing to do with food. I thought I’d throw a 100% boda fide personal post in here just for kicks, so if you’re all about the food and not about the catty (screw you), I have a doozy of a post ready for you: The Fat Duck.
So. A few years ago, while renewing my drivers licence in Sydney, I remember choosing the five year expiry option, because it’s just a rip off to renew for a year or three. Or maybe I’m just cheap. Roz from Monsters Inc, who so happened to be working at the York Street RTA (who knew?), barked husky orders at me through cigarette-yellowed teeth and I was too petrified to not comply. I filled out my forms with perfectly square printed letters 4mm high x 3mm wide, I signed, I paid, I sat, I smiled.
“WHAT YA SMILIN FOR?” she bellowed.
Me, the rest of the RTA and all the people in the Starbucks next door, we all shat our pants. And she took the photo.
Five effin’ years I was to have this I’ve-shat-my-pants photo as my single form of ID. I couldn’t believe it was going to last me til I’m 30. I mean, gawd, really? That is SO. FAR. AWAY.
But look at that. Five years passed without too many glitches, and I was very much excited about turning 30 because, yes, that photo is now expired (and incinerated).
The day which marked my survival of thirty years on this planet came and went surprisingly quickly. Aside from lunch at the second bestest restaurant in the world that I somehow snagged two months earlier (more about this in the next few days), the day itself flew by in a flurry of food, pampering, presents and fabulous drunkenness with good friends.
The pampering: Oh dear lord, any excuse to pamper. I kicked off my own little birthday celebrations early with a mani+pedi at Cucumba in Soho, followed on the day of the par-tay by a make-up session at Selfridge’s Georgio Armani counter and oh-my-god the best fun I’ve ever had ~ fake eye lashes at Shu Uemura! My squinty little Asian eyes, this is what it feels like to have eye lashes!
The presents: Ah, I feel all loved and warm and mushy. Lots of awesomeness gifts from all of my friends, but boys take note, the most amazing present of all ~ Jimmy Choo heels. Yes indeedy, Panu got me Jimmy Choo! And not just a voucher, I was exponentially impressed that he’d gone there himself and picked out a pair of stunning Jimmy Choo Gingko heels. I was in love. With more than the shoes.
But. There is a but. I have ridiculously miniscule feet. Like, tiny little tofu padding stuck on the end of my legs, and if it were not for my perpetually pedicured toes (because some things are like religion to me), you would not even know they were feet. Panu bought me a Euro 36 (UK 3, US 5), which in all normal circumstances you’d think would fit a small foot. But. It was just a touch too big. My heart fell out of my chest and slimed its way down my pyjamas.
We visited the Jimmy Choo store but they didn’t have Gingko in a 35 or 35.5. My dreams felt a little smashed and I wanted to right there inject botox into every toe, but Panu, my hero, picked out his second choice which I also think is sexy albeit probably a bit more business sexy. Alma came in a 35.5 and although I have to line them with insoles and heel grips, they fit like a glove and my toes have escaped botox. For now.
The fabulous drunkenness: I’d organised drinks at Crazy Bear in Fitzrovia because a) it’s funky b) the toilets are crazy funky and c) it’s a two minute stumble from my place. The bar was ok, the service was meh (the waitress passing a possible – probable – racist comment about us all looking alike) but oh yes, the drinks were delish! We started with a pancake shot (half tequila, half frangelico, lined with sugar) and spent the night guzzling a hedonistic mix of mojitos, martinis, lychee lovers and the most toxic of all (but god, I love), the nutty berry ~ frangelico, chambord and cream.
Lastly, and this almost feels too weird to post, but people have been asking me about what I was wearing to The Fat Duck and the party and oh yeh, I’m also vain so I jumped at the chance to take photos of my outfits! Guess who’s a big fan of the Little Black Dress? Outfits 1, 2 and 3 were tested for The Fat Duck. Outfit 4 was a no brainer for the party.
- All Saints cowl neck dress, Karen Millen leopard print heels ~ too tight. I had to eat.
- Ted Baker bow tie dress (though you can’t see it, it’s all black), Tony Bianco peep toe heels ~ the winning combination, until I tried on the third dress.
- Kuku slip dress, Tony Bianco peep toe heels ~ the winner. Loose, comfy, and I could actually eat.
- Some cheap dress from some cheap shop, some cheap platform heels from Dorothy Perkins ~ cute, perfect party outfit!
So suffice to say I had an awesome-tastic time for my birthday. Thank you to everyone who sent birthday wishes on twitter, facebook, email, phone, and especially those who partied with me. We’re taking a little break for a few weeks and then the Festival of Catty continues when we hit the US West Coast!