Late Late Lunch
- Posted on February 19, 2007 1:16 PM
- 0 comments
You know you've had a great weekend when your best friend messages you on a Monday morning with the following:
"Can water taste fuzzy? And is that a good thing?"
Trust my ever-cryptic Swede to come out with a random message to start the week off. There's a good reason why her tongue is a funny shade of fuzz... it probably has a hell of a lot to do with the 4 bottles of wine she and Miss America polished off at Late Late Lunch yesterday. I'd have the same fuzzy saliva ducts if I'd stayed on with them in the basement of Turnmills... but duty called me and my lad (aka 'the camerama') to the other side of town for the Olivier Awards.
For those who are wondering, Late Late Lunch is a Sunday afternoon cabaret extravaganza in the basement of Turnmills in Farringdon. Last time I went as press... only to find that a seat alone in a room full of frilly-knickered hosts on roller-skates is no fun at all. Why watch on and take notes when you can join in on the cabaret packed fun? So, this time I rallied some equally as adventurous troops and glammed up for the occasion as a real punter. Boy am I glad I did.
In the ninety minutes I had before I had to vacate the sexy, smoke-filled abyss, I sucked on happy gas, sipped white, twirled my newly dyed hair, ate crab and olives and enjoyed the company of friends in feather boas.
The event has expanded since last time... there's now a movie screening room and a lot more space. I missed the entire line-up of performers again but am told by mates who stayed behind that the 'Naked Poet' was fantastic. We're on a mission to book twenty places at the next one. Yes, it was THAT much fun - even before I had to leave. If you can stomach a hangover on a Monday morning, I'd recommend it - do something different on a Sunday... roasts are overrated anyway.
With a dress code like the following, it's impossible not to have a good time:
Dress Code: 1920s Speakeasy Chic - Gangsters, Molls, Feather Boas, Bugsy Malone, Cigarette Holders, Film Noir, Chicago, Flapper, Feathers, just lots and lots of feathers... Dare you to wear nothing but?!
The waitresses scoot around on roller skates, dressed in fishnets and frilly panties and the men are as cool as cats. The girls obviously had a ball... I felt bad leaving them but when a text message informed me that 'We've found MEN.... come back immediately" I knew they were in safe (or at least entertaining hands).
Meanwhile, in a cab, my partner in all things 'press' hurtled across London towards the Grosvenor House Hotel where theatre's greats were rolling up in their glad rags for the 2007 Laurence Olivier Awards. I went last year and loved it... sure, the press pit wasn't exactly made for comfort but I did meet Christian Slater and Sir Ian McKellen - so beggars can't be choosers.
Who needs comfort when you're breaking in new shoes anyway?
Last year I also managed to drop my mobile phone down the toilet and get chatted up by a geriatric diamond broker. None of that this time... there was a job to do and a chaperone to make sure I did it.
Kim Cattrel was Adam's highlight of the evening. teh self-confessed metro sexual loves Sex and the City (and I have to agree... the woman is a siren as 'Sam' and as herself). Last time we saw Kim, was at the press night of 'Play's The Thing'. Ads caused her to change seats when he chatted to her for just a little too long. Stalker behaviour is not a trait to be proud of. :)
Luckily she didn't spot him and run this time... rather, she wowed in an off the shoulder red number and spoke about all the theatre she's been seeing in London. As she said herself - stage theatre is what she wants to continue doing next. Let's hope so. Read the full Olivier Award run down here.
Unfortunately the night had to end a tad early for me - I managed to swallow a piece of glass... damn pepsi bottles. There was a small chunk missing from the edge of the rim and I couldn't find it anywhere. If the couch and weird pains in my tummy are anything to go by, I'm now the proud owner of a shard of glass in the tum. Cough, cough, cough. I'm sure it'll exit... all in good time.
The rest of the weekend was damn near perfection. The Swede dragged me to 'Popstarz' - the perfect type of place for crazy dressing, cheesy music, a LOT of Kylie. Yep, it's a gay club - and whilst the Swede and I like boys, a lot of our male friends do too - so it's now a dance fest favourite. Yes it's dingy, yes it's corny to the first degree, but it's also a gauranteed fun night out - minus leery men with groper limbs. The Swede still managed to pull what must have been the one straight guy in the venue. I vow never to be surprised at the power of the 'come hither GAZE' ever again. Meeeeow.
Saturday afternoon was spent in the Design Museum where, as per usual I came out wanting to raid the nearest art store and make a mess with all things creative. Art galleries bring out more excitement in me than chocolate... I swear I missed my calling.
We followed the culture bout with a stroll (okay hobble... have you walked the cobble-stoned backstreets of London Bridge with heels on?!), a chai tea latte (DO IT... PG Tips will never suffice again), Busaba Ethai (don't order the duck... they rarely put a kitchen utensil wrong but we hit slow service AND springboard shewy duck on Friday). It was like munching on Gumby... minus the googly eyes. We then saw 'Notes On a Scandal' starring Judy Dench and Kate Blanchett. Well worth a trip to the flicks.
2 mornings of french toast, fresh berries and maple syrup later and a sleep in or two and we emerged fresh and rested for the week ahead. I'm still sucking up after the 'sleep' incident on Valentine's Day but fancy breakfasts I can handle.
Tonight I'm off to the Luminaire to see The Early Years + Wolf & Cub + The Strange Death of Liberal England play. Wolf & Cub are treating me to an interview - the band coem from my home city - Adelaide. This one's gonna get personal.
Post a comment
TrackBack
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.seatwaveblogs.com/cgi-bin/mt/mt-tb.cgi/416
