I had one too many bellinis with mother luxe on Friday afternoon.
The next minute I was sat in a Horsham hair-salon agreeing to a new do and a book of raffle tickets to raise money for blind dogs, or was that dogs for the blind.
An hour and a latte later, I’d sobered up enough to see my bonce and it’s new affliction – a fringe. I’ve been face bombed – to the tune of 80 quid, 90 if you include the tip and the raffle.
It’s more than a fringe/bang/face curtain…..
It’s got a life of its own. A life which doesn’t sit still.
This has to be the bravest thing I’ve done since Mr. Luxe insisted we queue up with the rest of Crawley for a case of cut price Sancerre at Asda. At least there I was able to leave… Eventually. And nobody saw me (I dont think!!!)
It’s been 4 days since fringe-gate. A busy weekend has seen said fringe face a few obstacles. I hadn’t betted on its first pda being an overnighter in fashionistaville east London
Maybe I forgot, maybe icloud forgot for me, but an invitation to a good friends birthday down in trendy Shoreditch had slipped my mind. On Friday night with a stocked fridge and the Homeland box set out the wrapper, Mr. Luxe remembered.
Bugger!
I gave the fringe a pep talk and reacquainted myself with Time Out online. I made a last minute booking at The Hoxton – there was no going back. The review promised super cool cocktails and urban sightseeing. The fringe promised not to move – heavy duty hairspray helped.
We arrived early doors Saturday and embraced our inner urban-cool.
The Hoxton has the X factor. Curb-side, it’s annonymous and perfectly placed for the ultimate ‘dirty weekender’. With the bed firmer than Mr. Luxe’s forehead and the room service menu carb rich – Luxeloving was likely.
In a ‘new-money oligarch’ state of mind we landed in the lobby with our LV’s in tow – me snapping the obligatory Facebook photos – Mr. Luxe scanning the bar menu for a BLT .
Me and fringe felt safe lolling around the uber cool-air lobby. I left Mr. Luxe negotiating the upgrade. It was non existent. We didn’t care.
The room was petite and perfectly formed.
I laid out my abluting ammo in the ensuite whilst Mr. Luxe tucked into the complimentary crisps and befriended the gadgets. GHD’s plugged in, fringe was safe to stay.
We were soon plotting our spending route over a chilled glass of wine in the bar. It was 11am – Thirstyluxe.
On a Hoxton high, we set off in search of the shops…
We had a brief stroll down Brick Lane and I had an unfortunate fall on Chance Street – It was time for a selfie and a pitstop. Stumbling into Spitalfields we arrived at Androuet for cheese fondue.
I’m no AA Gill so I won’t bore you with Brie tales.
As Saturday afternoons go, it was heavenly and Mr. Luxe and I have rediscovered our love of cheese and each other.
I think we lost our heart to The Hoxton.
It’s where I lost my fringinity…
