The government advice to work at home but go to parties has emptied the City of London. People must be partying in the suburbs.
The streets are once again empty.
Not my studio building though. It’s still a hive of arty and fashion activities.
There have been a couple of exhibitions during the last week or two that have caused angst in some arty quarters. The art works on occasion not being given the prime spots they deserve, or being displayed in some way contrary to the vision or requirements of the artists involved. I lack sympathy.
Fashion wise over the last few days there’s been a big photo shoot, or it might be a series of photo shoots going on. I haven’t asked, I might get an arched brow side eye, and no one needs that.
Generally the swarm of necessary participants in these shoots are non mask wearing with no sense of personal space, and no idea how to clean up after themselves in a toilet. It’s a mystery how a person could reach adulthood and not know to put toilet paper in the toilet, sanitary protection in the sanibin and paper hand towels in the basket provided. Mysterious and disgusting, especially in light of the glossy exteriors presented outside of the bathroom.
In addition to being filthy, Fashionistas also have a poor sense of direction apparently, often finding themselves wandering through the studios on our side of the gallery/project space. They are easy to spot and put back on track. Mostly charming, some of them find our spaces while searching for a place to change. It’s rare but not unusual to find half dressed or naked people wandering about or indeed seated, uninvited in a studio where they do not belong. Quite often a young handsome man will arrive lost at my studio and I wonder as I send him on his way if very soon he will appear naked in the studio windows opposite mine. It’s quite likely, I’m no longer shocked or surprised or even that curious. Old age.
Fashion behaviour was one of the hot topics of conversation during our first batch of Xmas drinks yesterday afternoon. Following the advice to party at will, we’ll be serving drinks daily at 4.30. The expected attendees are Marmalade and myself, with GorJus and/or BelVita popping by when available, others of the gang are off for the holiday already so our parties will be smaller than usual. With Xmas family gatherings being a concern, daily covid testing is also a thing, and I’m wondering if we should integrate the lateral flow test into the cocktail hour, I might request my notification in Welsh to spice it up a bit.
Marmalade has spent a large part of the covid times living in a remote part of Scotland. She’s returned recently to work amongst London’s germy populace and is still acclimatising.
She arrived at the studio this morning to find a bra and an empty Prosecco bottle on the gold table. My bad, not as exciting or naughty as it looked. In the distance a superbly groomed, very tanned, short, camp man could be heard calling, Sienna, have you found the frills?
Welcome back Marmalade.
fat tart 