Bootique Spotting

A month ago my fabbest friend in Manchester left her Northern roots to pursue the bright lights of the big city after gaining a new job in London. I promised I would come and see how she’s settling in. We meet up at Euston and she whisks me to Covent Garden.  I’ve picked a fashion forward funky dress to wear which is emblazoned in black with cute red cherries scattered all over it. It’s got these black statement panels on the bodice, which eco the 80’s power trend. The dress has earned me some weird stares in Manchester but in London’s Covent Garden they love it.

We mooch around Covent Garden searching for independent treasure gems. We soon realise most of these treasures are totally out of our price range!  The interior of a boutique named The West Village is awesome, with intricate painted green tree illustrations on the wall. The clothes are just as beautifully designed with a floral patterned wrap dresses catching my eye and sparkly encrusted sequined Chelsea Belle skirts hanging from the rails. Lisa confesses secretly walking past before but never daring to go actually go in!  I’ll have none of this when I am in town cos I am a fierce ‘proffessional window shopper’ who refused to be intimidated by bootique’s of worship.  My passion and fascination for the  art form shields me from any snooty stares off shop assistants.

My turn a blind eye strategy has taken me on a fashion pilgrimage  of worship to the urber cool designer museum outlets also knowm as  Bond Street.  The road is straight out of an edition of Vogue Magazine which means I have been up close and personal with Jimmy Choos, Versace £5000 dresses and the elegant tailoring of Alexander Mcqueen’s dresses. The art of looking but not touching I have down to a T, as for pretending I am a minted African Princess whose daddy works in the diamond trade, well I am still working on that bit.  Harrods is on the list though for my next visit just to be a tourist and say I have been there and could’nt scrape the pennies together for the T Shirt!

  Back in reality we saunter through these hip dinky outdoor fashion markets where they have rails of on-trend men’s shirts, casual blazer jackets and casual linen trousers. I buy my partner a Vanilla coloured summer shirt with Victorian themed illustrations on it. I’m impressed that they give it me in a recycled Zara bag too and for a fiver.  Further along that street there are rails of woman’s clothes from T shirts splashed with Heidi Klum rocking the birdie salute to hideous retro bright pattered dresses that I nearly heave over in disgust. What a big disappointment on the woman’s front with sheer tack on display, so instead we set off to Green Park to enjoy a Marks & Spencer picnic b’day treat outside Buckingham Palace. Its thirsty work this fashion lark.