NB: I wrote this yesterday but fell asleep before I could post it…
Today’s chronicle is written, I admit, slightly tipsily. I have been…DAY DRINKING. Now before you get all sniffy, it’s a beautiful day here and there’s a royal wedding going on, so why the heck not? Also I’m sad, gimme a break.
A friend took me to a very indie bar which is so extremely pretentious that guests have to know a secret code before being allowed in. And then you have to consult the satirical menu, which offers a self-effacing and self-conscious insight into the minds not only of the owners of the bar, but also into yourself. Should I dabble in a daiquiri? Bow to the bourbon? Who knows? Not I. Am I really so hipster that I would order….coffee from a secret bar? Overwhelmed by choice, I settled for a cheeky cocktail. Well, two. Actually three, if you count the can of Pimms I had from Tesco. Which probably explains why walking home turned into weaving home.
As I sipped my lemon-curd infused gin-based.. drink? (I have no idea what was actually in it), I considered my situation. Here I was, following fashions trends in a crop top and red trousers, enjoying a cocktail served in a lightbulb in a club so secret, perhaps even the owners didn’t know about it. The living embodiment of a hipster nightmare.
Is this really who I am? Someone who gets off on drinking fancy-ass lemonade from a toy milk bottle?
Actually, yes, yes I am.
The cocktails were great and I got quite merrily tipsy, and had to be refrained from getting a train to the nearest town with a Wagamamas (I am super craving it right now). Plus it felt cool to be drinking in an elite club out of illicit utensils, and on top of that, to be doing it in the middle of the goddamn day. The drinks had funny names, and it was all very aesthetic in the most pretentious, wonderful way. I think with stuff like this, you’ve either got to hate it with a passion, or embrace it for what it is: a nice bar which is a bit different and where they don’t skimp on gin measures.
Moral of the story: try something new today. For me, it was drinking very alcoholic cocktails out of a lightbulb at 3pm. For you, may I suggest an Irish coffee? A g&t as the sun sets? Or maybe something non-alcoholic. I’m a terrible influence, aren’t I? But you work hard, go treat yo self.
I should go now as I have to pack a suitcase; I’m leaving for Budapest tomorrow. I do not have great confidence in my drunk packing skills – do you think I’ll need my sequin jeans? Or a wetsuit? I DON’T KNOW. My suitcase is currently mostly full of eyeshadow palettes, so that might need rethinking.
Your unsober pal,