Flea markets in Berlin. Vintage shops in Budapest. Absolute heaven.
Our first stop is Amsterdam, and it has absolutely flown by! We only stayed two nights because we wanted to make more room for staying at our next stop- Berlin, which we are waiting on a train to right now.
Amsterdam is quietly and traditionally beautiful, in stark contrast to its seedy reputation for drug-taking and red-light wandering. Yesterday we visited the Alexander Zijp market and took a few snaps. Here’s Jennie enjoying an iced coffee in the heat…
Midi-skirt: River Island
Spotty top: Zara
Hat: The Hundreds (courtesy of Michael Nevin)
And so onto Berlin…It’s been a short and sweet trip here, apologies for the shortage of photos- more next time!
Only 2 weeks to go! On the 15th of August I’ll be embarking on a much anticipated trip around Europe. After Barcelona I had to do something to deal with the coming-home blues, so I’ve been working non-stop since in order to afford an interrail around mostly eastern Europe lasting until the 5th of September.
We’re starting in Amsterdam, then heading to Berlin, Krakov in Poland, Prague in the Czech Republic, Ljubljana and Lake Bled in Slovenia, then a quick tour of Croatia, and finally Budapest. Although the route isn’t exactly set in stone so who knows where we’ll end up!
I plan to blog from every stop, with photos of everything from street-style to what I’m having for dinner, that’s if we can afford food. Wish us luck, and see you there!
Just to let you know I credited the photos using the tags below…Photo 2 and 4 are my own:
No 2 was taken 2 years ago on an interrailing trip round Europe- accidently caught my friend Lauren’s reflection in the window!
No 4 was last year at Benicassim festival in Spain- I had just got back from seeing the Strokes where I had lost both my shoes in the madness of it all…my friend Sean was kind enough to lend me his own shoes for the journey back to our tent. It was either that or give me a piggyback the whole way…
So I’m in the middle of exams and blogging isn’t exactly where my priorities should be lying right now, but I just had to share this! Just found out that a model I met in Paris last summer (see previous post The VIP Room of the VIP Room) has just done the Topman campaign for Autumn/Winter 2011. His name is Keno Weidner, he’s German, has a million tattoos and is an awesome dancer. Fact.
I should probably tell him that having him as a Facebook friend allows me to stalk his modelling pursuits on a regular basis. Oh well.
It’s our last night in Paris, and we have one aim- to not sleep, to party hard and hopefully miss our flight home…
So after several unsuccessful attempts to talk our way into exclusive underground nightclubs in Paris (such as the notorious Le Baron), our friendly taxi driver recommended to us the same club which our trusty guide book described as the most exclusive club in the city, reserved only for the “rich and beautiful”. Our reckless spontaneity, however, was soon dampened when we pulled up outside the club and realised the guide book wasn’t lying- Ferrari’s and BMV’s lined the Champs Elysee. Suddenly it seemed as though our best Topshop outfits weren’t quite going to cut it. The only thing more suprising than our decision to actually get out of the taxi, was the fact that as soon as we approached, the bouncer immediately lifted the heavy velvet rope without a word spoken! Regulars, obviously… And just as we were about to burst into celebratory cheers, a woman approached asking if we would like to be seated VIP. Being escorted through the crowds and shown a seat in the airy VIP area (which smelled strangely of citrus) was surreal- what do we do now? Scared to put a foot wrong, we decided to order a drink to try and distract from the fact that we couldn’t take our eyes off the impeccably dressed surrounding us, the gold plated Paco Rabanne “One Million” perfume bottles embedded into the walls, the DJ’s spray-painted Louis Vuitton Apple Mac, and the cinema sized screens showing videos of the club’s most recent visitors. Kaiser Karl was there the week before: I had to take a quick gulp of my €25 vodka and orange juice (!) to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.
Soon enough, our friendly VIP neighbours invited us to drink with them, however it was evident that they came from another world altogether- add two zeros to the price of my drink and that was their bill by the end of the night. At one point my handbag was sitting beside one of theirs on the sofa- mine a £2.99 bargain in Oxfam which I regularly see sported by 70 year old women, nestled beside a huge, patent, gold Louis Vuitton creation which probably cost upwards of 10 grand. The perfect photo opportunity, but since the only camera floating about was that of the hired professional photographer; I thought it best not to whip out our digital!
“So how come you’re in Paris?”
“Oh just the usual- sightseeing, Disneyland, girls weekend away. What about you?”
“Oh I’m here for a casting for Paris Fashion week.”
This is how we found out that the three tall, skinny indie boys we were dancing with, just happened to be male models. Keno, Dustin and Dejan- German, Canadian and Serbian respectively.
So we fulfilled our aim of seeing the sun rise- although hearing tales of Versace and Gautier, and being taught the walk by genuine veterans of the runway in the grounds of the Louvre at 6am wasn’t exactly part of the plan. Keno even gave me his oversized black cord Levi shirt he’d picked up in a Parisian vintage store to keep warm in the cool breeze of the morning. And I almost got away with keeping it as we hopped in a taxi to go home and leave behind the world of the “rich and beautiful”.
An American company, celebrating the English genius of Shakespeare, in the heart of Paris’ Latin quarter- Shakespeare and Company’s history is as diverse as the purpose of the store itself; serving as a bookshop, library and a sort of museum. Formally a refuge for aspiring writers, it served as the perfect spot for us to recover from the night before, while getting lost reading the notes people had stuck on the wall as the piano was being played by a passing visitor in the next room…
Whether you’re hunting out a rare book or true love (as many of the handwritten notes appeared to offer), Shakespeare and Company is the perfect way to while away a lazy Parisian afternoon… It just has a certain je ne sais quoi.