Easter weekend.
Live from Shoreditch.
Think boho beardies in Balmain bikers,
the home of the Banksy,
in the heart of Hackney.
Mr. Luxe booked us into Shoreditch House. We do like a little Soho House Group action
– Often.
So we arrived super early, all smiles and heavy-duty bag swag.
I’m never late, the baggage always over-weight.
I haven’t travelled light since the ash-cloud fiasco – 10 night’s castaway in Grenada – where I befriended a coconut I called Wilson.
Mr. Luxe set off in search of an NCP and made sure to drop me and my LV vanity (lead weight) at the Cowshed Spa first. Then he checked us into room Tiny.
It was.
First day: sunshine intermittent
Huffing and puffing in the hotel lobby landed him a free cocktail by the roof top pool.
He went.
Post pedi, Pucci one-piece and I weren’t prepared to miss out.
Within an hour of introduction, I’d turned Tiny …50 shades of tangerine.
well tinted. In L’Oreal Sublime.
Still tan tacky, I luxefooted – three corridors and two lifts (no scuffs) – my way to the hotel pool.
Then I spotted them.
Mr. Luxe canoodling with an exotic mojito!!
Chilli was her name. Jalapeño was her game.
He promised me it’d just been the one time, that she meant nothing to him.
But at 11:45 in the morning?! He was pissed.
Chilli’s actually quite nice when you get to know her.
Day two: Sans sun.
I pieced together clues of what happened post Chilli:
The bar bill features a weighty looking Malbec and a Shoreditch Blonde – pale ale to you and me – on repeat.
My fashionista sister Glenda joined us early eve. She brought back-up for Mr. Luxe in the shape of her beau.
By the look of it the four of us set to work destroying a four course supper and any chance of an invitation to the AA meeting next door.
Cue the selfish selfie (no boys allowed)
Sunday was a blur.
An espresso tinted mooch up to Brick lane was kiboshed by halestones – the rabbit felt fedora freaked – so we nose dived into a fabulous little cafe where Mr. Luxe befriended the pastry chef and I instagrammed my ootd.
Back at the hotel – fedora fed up – the shops were shut.
Mr. Luxe delivered in spades with sugar coated back-up – we were at the chocolate bunnies all afternoon….
to be continued
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