Eating Eggs

with Tanya in Totteridge

Hristus se rodi

The battle for badnjak 

MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY NEW YEAR

Christmas at the Lutz's was wonderful, with some game-time at the Walkers too. 

 New Years eve with the boys (Soar, Collins, Kent, Travers, Elijah) was perfect, haven't seen them as a group in ages- we have drifted so much. Travers made a toast to me.

 The girls were a great surprise! - Cara, Tilly and Bibi baby love.

 Finally met Katie at 1am in a vault of sweaty trap-rappers. Moist.

A Timbergram

Two improbable possibilities

Two fixed paths

Collide in one rarity

And become uncertain

About everything that came before.

The twilight of a stagnant week

Sparkles

As a new week unfolds before us

hesitant and winding.

A casual approach

A retreat

A searching glance

The impeccable manners

Of a gentleman.

A gentle touch

Cranberry red pulse

Beats and breaks

The façade of a rotting relationship

With another.

Bound to another and yet,

Back less, sheer, low cut

Meant for wondering eyes.

Beneath the pristine disguise;

A bare truth

Two consciences converse

An uneasy compromise.

An open hand

Just one palm reading, just one embrace

Yet- a furry warmth

Creeps up unexpected

A remarkable comfort.

Time becomes relevant to moments spent

Demystifying tea-leaf fortunes with you

Liquid touchstone.

An affair of gestures

And subtle gazes

Abruptly ended

With a Timbergram.  

Dyed with gargling emotions

Thick with questions

Heavy, pushed against my heart

Engraved in wood

A flattering three lines

lay flat

24 hours with Nelly

I was sat in a two-hour lecture on Leninism, Stalinism, Trotskyism and oh look how sparkly that girl’s hair clip ism and I bet I can draw a pretty cat ism….

The standard nerd of the class kept asking those questions that aren’t really questions but more statements to show how much he has read. I have been ripping into this particular boy this whole term and arguing against all his points or just rolling my eyes and nudging the person next to me to giggle as he puts a dictaphone on the lecturer’s table at the start of class, or is scribbling notes with such concentration his nose is touching his paper. But I piped down in this class when I was told by one of the people I nudged that he was autistic and I wasn’t funny.

So, I was bored. And hungry.

I got a text saying I should come out for dinner after my lecture with my friend Kitty, a banker and two buyers for Selfridges.

My stomach rumbled in agreement. But I was wearing a Primark dress so I ran up and down Oxford Street looking for something to wear and frantically got changed in Soho Square, which I’m sure is not unusual.

We ate at La Botega Negra, which serves Mexican food but you have to walk into what looks like a porn shop on Old Compton Street to get into it. Essentially a cellar it was small and overcrowded but the food was incredible, most memorably the leg of lamb which arrived still cooking and took up most of the table. It was also the kind of place where we had a round of Martinis bought for us by a ‘man across the room’.

We then went to the Miu Miu Club, a three-day pop-up private members club with Michelin-starred restaurants, a ‘conversation room’ and a bunch of other such eccentricities, at the Café Royal on Regent Street.

Not entirely sure how we got in, but amongst the chic Italian ladies we looked a bit out of place. The building was incredibly ornate and with all the luscious food and cocktails Kitty and me asserted, drunkenly, that there must be macaroons to be found here. So we ran through ballrooms and up and down grand staircases looking for them, in our haste we nearly had a head-on collision with Kate Moss and Dita von Teese.

To our great disappointment there were no macaroons and after causing sufficient ruckus we went home.

The next day I was doing a charity fashion show for Women For Women, sponsored by Harper’s Bazaar and Browns in the Italian embassy. After convincing someone at the door that Kitty was war torn and a worthy edition to the evening, she sat in the front row and watched the show. There was then an auction and one of the dresses I wore sold for £3000- I felt quite proud.

After the show I got my chance to see the splendour of the embassy and mingle with the guests. Rumour got to us that there were macaroons being served and we finally found what we had been searching for so long!

We then went to Wagamamas behind Selfridges and had dinner with club promoters and JSL, which was sufficiently bizarre.

We then went to Rose with the promoters and Wagamama gang for their usual Thursday Hip Hop night, where we popped bottles of Ciroc and all that jazz.

We went home having not spent a penny in two days, but lived the high-life- the true Model Student lifestyle.

Your macaroon-finding expert,

Nelly

Model Student

My fashion/ nights out related articles in a column I have started writing for the Angle.

http://www.theanglenews.co.uk/fashion/article-c478e47cddf/model-student-vol3-high-fashion-nudity-or-glorified-porn.html


Nelly
x

Sushi Samba

A friend who always organizes some incredible parties invited me casually to a sushi restaurant launch and I thought, why not? I'm a student and this was an offer of free food that I simply could not refuse. I took a friend and we showed up at the Heron Tower in the city around 7pm to find a queue of a few hundred people outside dressed in their finery. They were entertained by a Rio carnival-esque band and dancers in the middle of the street, I was so confused but had little time as we spotted my friend and were let straight through. We step into a glass lift with 3 drag queens, Mathew Williamson and Ricky from Eastenders. Suffice to say this was awkward enough without being launched up 40 flights in a glass elevator at nauseating speed.

The restaurant was not at all what I expected. Sprawled across three asymmetric floors it was a maze of varieties of art instillations and breathtaking panoramic views of London.

The food was a different topic entirely. The restaurant is called 'SushiSamba' and thus was a bizarre fusion of Peruvian and Japanese food. With around 100 catering and bar staff we were well and truly to be fed. Given our usual student menus we ate every canapé that came our way. This soon proved all too vomit-inducing.

The restaurant upstairs had also put its chiefs to the job of supplying for the party and our taste master class began there, bare in mind it's called the ‘Duck and Waffle' and their signature dish, which the lovely head chief Dan made for us, was a Belgium waffle, duck, fried egg and maple syrup! Swallowed down by a Martini and vodka shot with citrus froth and dried orange shavings. Then…

Oxcheek doughnut balls

Haddock Scotch eggs

Date wrapped in bacon

Grilled Octopus

Shrimp with black truffle vinaigrette  

Grilled mozzarella and quails egg on a sushi base.

All in quick succession.

The entertainment was just as arbitrary; the aforementioned drag queens amounted to at least 20 and paraded around being amusing and chatty. Pixie Geldof's band Violet did a set including, what I drunkenly remember to be, a Rhianna cover.

It all got a bit too much when I met a banker who somewhere in conversation mentioned he was Jewish and I proceeded to tell him how I love Jews and all about my dissertation. Meanwhile my friend was being chatted up by a head buyer at Selfridges who told us this season's 'in’ colours were orange pink and white about which she, as a proud ginger, was furious, as she was ‘unable' to wear any of those colors.

All in all we space shuttled our way back down the elevator, our ears popped, our tummies were sickeningly full, our Instagrams chock–a-block with arty photos, satisfied with our evening. A well recommended destination.

http://sushisamba.com/