|Oxford Street- London, UK|
It is 4am and I am wide awake in a seemingly other dimension after taking a nice cup of jetlagged English tea- oh the mysteries of travel!
Being in London after three short days has opened up a fun lens. The people here, although speaking English (not American English), seem to have such an amazing sense of time well lived engrained in their very “[h]Ello”. It amazes me to see how much they prize fashion here…the tall black boots and coats and scarves and leggings/black tights and heels and flawless skin. People in London have their own style, yet it appears a style in itself. Passengers on the underground Tube and on the famous double decker buses dress themselves as a pleasure and yet convenience in this Northern cold. The men done scarves and leather carrying cases with their leather boots and skinny jeans, peacoats, trendy designer hats…nowhere else have I seen people as fashionable as a whole. The women seem perfect in their imperfections and I envy the ease they portray their feminine beauty.
Upon an outing to Selfridges, a four story department store or upscale Macy’s, for those of us in America, with Eva, it is inevitable to notice the passion that people have in their daily work. Instead of selling “hurry the heck up, buy, and get out of my department” they SELL passion…for anything with a name to it, although if choice of designer- Why Not? Whether shopping for Gucci or Louis Vatton, stockings, or Christmas decorations, the people always have the most friendliest of “[h]ellos” that it is hard not to smile at the innocently aged greeting of the English. When asked a question they usually reply “well, let’s have a look (highly accented on the Looook) now shall we”, or ask you to “have a think on it” when deciding if you want to buy or not (one of my particular favorites to far). They seem so helpful and knowledgeable and seem to be so Zen in this state of fashion while at the same time seem like they could sell red lipstick to a nun in serenity. It truly amazes me. Mother/daughter, boyfriend/girlfriend, they look like pictures walking down the street, or rather models of English life...on their walks to the Tube Station and tea time. How doth one pursue this type of passion for things seeming so…minimal??? Or so I always think of fashion as…but maybe, just maybe, there is a place for these small things of fashion and passion. Maybe I just have yet to dance to the tune of black boots, Gucci, and high-end stature kind-of drum- in pounds and pence! On with the beat of exploration in the UK!