Another night, another party with The Twin, and this time we strayed northward, to the shabby chic of Kensal Rise. Clad in suitably edgy attire, we mingled with the Fash Pack, celebrating Mark Fast for.. well, for being Mark Fast, so far as I could tell. Mark himself was taller and more masculine than I had imagined, sporting a bit of a rugger bugger build and a fair crop of facial hair (plus obligatory man-tail. Swoon.) We supped specially prepared watermelon and lychee parad-ICE cocktails (the bar was called The Paradise), marvelled at the ornate decor (think PG version of Soho's The Box) and snacked on an unusual mix of canapes from delicate oysters to freezer-staple chicken goujon. When the time came to take our leave, we were greeted by a friendly batch of paps, who brutally ignored the pair of us. Perhaps we should have got our knickers out?
No comments:
Post a Comment