Today I stumbled across this article which, for obvious reasons, has added an additional layer of depression to my day-before-pay-day vibes. So whilst it doesn’t look like I’ll be moving to Chelsea solo anytime soon, I can at least continue to admire it and its neighbours in all their uniformed, pristine and floral glory. Gatsby’s green light, etc. etc.
Brunch: Rail House Cafe.
I’ve often remarked that one of the biggest and best parts of London life is taking the opportunity to leave it – and I mean this in the best possible way. For some Australians, they’ll even cite this as their core motivation for moving over here; proximity to ‘the continent’ etc. etc. Personally, I’m in love with this city more than anywhere else but at the same time, I find London life to be a tad claustrophobic at times. After a while, a girl begins to miss little things like seeing the stars at night.
So, having not left town since I returned from my Australian sojourn earlier this year, I was absolutely delighted to get out of town to visit Kent for the very first time last weekend. What ensued was some quality family time spent exploring Faversham and Canterbury, indulging in history lessons, cake, pretty gardens and some classical music along the way.
And I got to see some stars.
I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling these past couple of weeks.
Such intense contemplations have most probably been sparked by a period of intense reading (induced by holidays and extended commutes), my day-to-day work and, most recently, a Monday night visit to St. Paul’s Cathedral to listen to some poetry.
Firstly, some context: I really do consider myself extremely lucky to have found myself a career which I truly love. As a profession, media often flies under the radar: it’s the industry you don’t know exists until you find yourself immersed within in. It’s fun, fast-paced and extremely indulgent. But as someone who spent my younger years contemplating political science and communications theory, running as far away from numbers and maths as I could, to find myself spending upwards of 8 hours a day buried in spreadsheets is a huge departure from my 17-year-old life goal to be editor of Vogue or the next J.K Rowling.
But this week, I’ve had a bit of an epiphany: turns out old storytelling habits die hard. I certainly don’t have the measured eloquence of the thoughtful and charming poets I had the pleasure of listening to earlier this week but storytelling still permeates most (if not all) aspects of my life. Most literally, this manifests in the form of this blog, my relatively new-found love of photography and my journal. However, it’s also present in the form of media strategies, endless emails, post campaign reporting and creative best practice presentations. Not to mention, the countless media buzzwords laden with ambiguity which have a pesky habit of tumbling out of my mouth daily.
So whilst it’s decidedly more data driven than I had anticipated and perhaps, on the surface, less culturally significant, it’s still something.
And though perhaps what I took most out of the poetry evening at St. Paul’s was probably off on more of a tangent than anticipated, a renewed appreciation for storytelling – even its most basic form – certainly doesn’t feel like a bad thing.
Like practically everyone else in the world these days, Instagram is my go-to platform for killing time, keeping friends/family updated on what I’m up to and finding inspiration. I have a growing list of things to do, places to go, coffee to drink and things to eat saved in my phone, sparked by many talented Londoners (‘real people’, brands, otherwise…) on the ‘gram.
So, whether you live in the city or are just an admirer from afar, I guarantee that this collection of talented Londoners on Instagram will have you feeling inspired:
Because COLOUR. I absolutely love Leah’s eye for finding it all over this city. London being grey is a cliche for a reason and her charming feed never fails to brighten up my day.
Because it just wouldn’t be a MissECalwell list about London if I didn’t mention my true north <3
Because I’m never not looking for the perfect cup of coffee.
As if pretty pastels aren’t reason enough, she seems to share my belief that pretty flowers can make anything better.
If only my London life was this glamorous!
Ever since I visited Lily Vanilli’s bakery a few months ago, I just can’t stop thinking about pretty cakes.
Whenever I have friends or family visiting, I always take them to Seven Dials. With its boutiques, cafes and theatres, it’s such an understated yet completely charming part of the city.
The name says it all.
As any traveller knows, there are few places in the world which present themselves as exactly as you imagine them. For me, New York City and Paris have always topped the list: I’ll never forget the first time I looked up at Manhattan’s skyscrapers or stumbled across The Eiffel Tower. There’s something really special about how equally magical and reassuring it can be for reality to coincide what’s in your imagination every so often.
Beatrix Potter’s Hill Top Farm, with its rolling hills, picturesque gardens and nostalgic imagery, is one of those places.
Since I first moved to the UK, the Lake District and Beatrix Potter’s Hill Top Farm have been top of my list of destinations to visit. Having grown up with the tales of Peter, Jemima, Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail’s antics (not to mention this TV series…), I’ve been itching to get up north to see what Miss. Potter found so inspiring.
After visiting it last Sunday, what can I say? Except now, I totally get it.
Walking through her house, seeing the very floorboards present in some of her books and reading her letters to friends describing her surroundings makes you feel close to the author (in a similar way as a visit to the British Library). The whole experience, quite frankly, will leave you wishing that you could have been Miss Potter’s friend.
Hill Top is obviously a stark contrast from London: the air is fresh and you’re surrounded by green in every direction (a characteristic of the Lake District in general). Wandering through the gardens, nestled in the hills of the English countryside, it’s hard not to feel relaxed as you keep a keen eye out for Peter and his friends.
The Lake District is full of beautiful sights which only increase in natural beauty if it’s been a while since you’ve left the big smoke. That said, nothin’ beats a pretty waterfall. On my recent visit to the Lake District, we paid Aira Force waterfall (just by the rather stunning Ullswater) a quick visit.
Though apparently quite a touristy sight, the waterfall is nestled amongst the trees and is relatively pleasant ‘hike’ up half a dozen flights of stairs. Thankfully, the path to the top is littered with sculptural art pieces and ‘fun’ facts about the different trees you’ll encounter along the way, increasing your nature chat exponentially (and who doesn’t need that?).
The tea rooms are small but warm and welcoming – the gigantic scones, ladened with clotted cream were an absolute dream, fuelling us with the requisite energy for powering up those stairs.
And once you get to the top, listening to the water crashing down on the rocks below surrounded by nothing by greenery, dreary old grey London certainly feels very, very far away.
One of the things I love most about London is the plethora of galleries and museums. Not only does it make me feel like I’m perpetually on holidays, but I also feel like I’m doing my brain a favour with a bit of culture every now and then. So when I heard that a Georgia O’Keefe exhibition was coming to town, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally pay a visit to the Tate Modern.
The exhibition is fantastic: for any art aficionados, you’ll know how ahead of her time O’Keefe really was. Her emotive use of colour and movement (not to mention our shared love of flowers) makes her one of my favourites.
I’m no architecture expert, but the actual Tate Modern building is obviously incredible. To find yourself in an empty concrete expanse feels like a real luxury (and increasing rarity) in this hectic and sometimes claustrophobic city.
If you like fine dining, fine food and fine company, Taste of London is really one of the best days out you can have in the city.
A foodie’s dream, the festival runs for a few days in Regents Park where all the city’s best restaurants assemble to allow you to get a ‘taste’ of their signature dishes.
To be honest, it’s actually quite a dangerous event: once you’ve whet your appetite with the delights of Duck & Waffle, or sampled the lovely lamb + mash on offer from Le Coq, you’re just going to find yourself wanting more. So for the record, you have been warned.
My recent trip to Italy was one of the most magical holidays I’ve ever had. There’s so much I love about the country and the Italian way of life. After falling in love with Venice, a day trip to Capri during our stay in Sorrento truly had me head over heels.
The island of Capri is an easy ferry/cruise from either Sorrento or Naples. It’s most famous for being the haunt of the rich and famous (like Jackie Kennedy) who frequented the island during their Italian sojourns. And whilst there’s no denying that the Island exudes money (private yacht anyone?) it’s still undeniably beautiful and quite charming.
To get to the town centre on foot, you have to navigate your way through the small, steep streets. Be warned – you will be walking uphill for a good twenty minutes so you probably don’t want to be doing this in the 40deg summer heat. In April, it was nothing a refreshing lemon slushy couldn’t fix.
Spend some time wandering the streets, past the luxury shops and five-star hotels, stop for some pizza and enjoy a glass of Rosé in the sunshine and trust me, you’ll never want to leave.
With the sun shining and the sea sparkling, grey little London felt very, very far away indeed during our all-too-brief visit. I left with a new pair of black cat eye sunglasses in an attempt to take a small morsel of the Capri glamour back to London with me.
But don’t just take my word for it. Here are 10 photos that will make you want to spend a day in Capri.
I like to think of Liberty as my true north – much like Daisy and Gatsby’s green light. For some, it’s just a shop (one full of exorbitantly priced goods) so this will sound a bit materialistic and pretentious. Regardless, for me it’s always represented more and my love for it, quite frankly, is unwavering.
The first time I ever visited London, I stayed at the YHA hostel down the road. I loved escaping the tiny room to spend hours wandering the store instead, admiring Liberty’s beautiful things and attention to detail. It’s a juxtaposition which pretty much sums up me and my philosophy on life and travel.
I think, though, what really sparked this
obsession affection (aside from escaping hostel life) was how inherently joyous the store felt. For the years which followed this first London trip, these initial memories lingered and iconic images of Liberty were my persistent motivation for making my dreams of living the London Life a reality.
So when I moved here, of course Café Liberty obviously became one of my favourite places to indulge in an afternoon treat and cup of tea. To this day, it’s still my favourite happy place in this crazy city – not to mention, a fond reminder of how far I’ve come since my YHA days.
You can find Café Liberty on the 2nd floor of the store, just off Regent Street.