Lo and behold! There’s a new kid on the Notting Hill block, and it’s me! After 7 years in Chelsea I decided to shake it up a bit and move, and I can’t tell you how happy I am in my new crib. Well, I can actually, and I will – I am SO happy in my new crib. I’ve always loved NH, and every time I’ve moved, I’ve looked for places here but never found quite the right thing, until now. So like a nomad trekking through the desert, I trekked through Hyde Park, in an Uber, followed by a mountain of clothes and (un)necessary things that make up my life. After unpacking ball gowns, gilded swords and Japanese umbrellas, I felt like a little trip down Portobello Road was in order. I had hired one of the Brothers for the special privilege of carrying all my stuff, and as a thank you, I decided to invite him for brunch at Bluebells. I also decided to invite him to treat me to said brunch. That’s the way of the world, if your brothers are bankers and you are a “financial scatterbrain” in the ever elusive Creative World. Thank you for brunch, should I book something for this Saturday? Hmm, say, Cecconis? I have a craving for truffles.

I love Portobello road for it’s variety – every time you come here, there are new things to see, new trinkets to marvel at. At one point, other casual strollers could marvel, and by the looks of it, be slightly disturbed by the fact that my dress accidentally unbuttoned a bit. There’s a GIF and all: scroll down to the end of the post to see it, but don’t forget to scroll back up to read the rest 🙂

Ok now that you’ve done that, can we just agree, that’s a really bitchy look? Jeez, lady! Pardon me, and my dress, ever so much.

At the very end of Portobello, a little tent disguised with shawls and shrouded in a cloud of incense held the mysterious and appealing sign of Palm Reading.  I am a particular fan of Tarot readings, and do not get me started on astrology (I read Susan Miller’s horoscope religiously. Good news fellow Pisces – July is our most magical month of the year! Yay!), so this tent held my attention. I once had an app on my phone called Moon Planner, which gave me such useful advice as “Today is a great day for laying concrete” or “Today is a great day to be seductive”, and I was like as if, and, when is it not?  Anyway, I didn’t get to do any palm reading today, but apparently I didn’t miss out – my new flatmate Diana later told me that she’s not very good. If there’s one thing I dislike more than a bad Moon Planner, it’s a bad psychic. Perhaps I’ll make you a little psychic guide to London? I’ll invent a rating system involving brooms, black cats and wands. Until then, we’ll have to make do with a potion or two. Cheers!

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