I’m considering starting a mini-series on this blog called #londonadventures, in which I take pictures of weird and wonderful things (when I remember to) and detail my many, many shopping exploits. This time it was Shoreditch, land of the hip. My friend lives there (much jel abound) so hopefully one day I’ll be able to live in London by just sleeping underneath his bed – er, I mean, visit there more often. Totally what I mean.
And Hipsterland begins.
Yeah, I like food, okay?
Trinkets. Among which lies treasure… if you can be bothered to sift.
This greets you when you walk into the store.
It’s a tartan wet dream.
It’s a… wait, bad idea to make any furry jokes.
Old cinema seats, over which hangs a leopard print coat and tons of shoes lie beneath. This is like the vintage version of Barbie’s Dream House. Or just my dream house.
This could be modern art if it wasn’t so damn creepy. I’d name it ‘Plastic Poison’. Lone Clown in gazing off in distance optional.
So when I get my dream house, I’m also going to fill it with tons of vintage things that I can do absolutely nothing with but will look fucking great: i.e: typewriters, globes, sewing machines à la All Saints.
Fake porcelain dog to replace the dog-shaped hole in your soul. Now only if it was a cat…
My only purchase of the day. To be fair it was The Next Morning and I was feeling particularly delicate… Anyway these are my fake-made-real glasses, you can buy frames for like £4 and take them to the opticians to get prescriptive lenses put in for True!Hipster fun. Though let’s not lie, if was a real hipster they would be Ray Bans. Word.