the city: topshop is heaven {part 3}

And so I’ve returned from my brief hiatus, an absence taken for a wee vacation at a friend’s beach house for a few days. But before I can begin on journaling those few days, I must finish the adventures in the city, non?

Leaving (or attempting, rather) the Metropolitan was quite the task – it was literally swarming with people who scrambled in to escape the outpour of rain. Eventually we were able to weave our way out and begin our trek in the rain towards the dear old subway. (I do sometimes mistakingly call it the Metro or the Tube, names that are far more pretty than the “subway.”)

Fast forward to the subway. (I assure you that the walk wasn’t too exciting – though the city looked incredibly beautiful, in a vintage sense, in the rain.) We boarded, squeezing in the wet, sweaty, and rather stuffy (mildew-y, even) crowd just before the doors closed. It was a bit uncomfortable, I must admit, as awkward contact with strangers tends to be. That, and enduring several men blatantly looking me up and down. Two stops later and M. & I finally have room to breathe and a pole to support us along the rather rocky ride. But noting the number of eye candy or simply creepy men is not too exciting, unless you were there. It was one of those “yah-had-to-be-there” type things (a.k.a. an excuse for these lazy fingers to skip to the important parts).

I do forget the order of events and stops, for a week between the actual happenings and the documentation does leave faulty recollections. But between actually finding the right street and reaching our final destination, there was:

• a lunch stop where we both ate the heaviest (and cheesiest) yogurt parfait with granola
• some more men checking us out
• stopping in random boutiques that had the most amazing items but were (sadly) way out of my seventeen year old means
• boys eyeing us, again
• getting a free tote from Desigual, so we made our rounds in the store to look like appreciate customers. I did like their printed bohemian-meets-punk skirts and tees.
• shopped a bit at Urban Outfitters (my first time ever!), where M. bought this stunning floral print top with eye hooks along the front, and I tried on an assortment of, surprise, black bandage-type apparel.

And this is when the angels from the heavens above sing choruses of “Hallelujah!” as the clouds part the sun reappears from its hiding spot during the storm. Because the large signs, with TOPSHOP in capitals, are finally spotted (by M.; it took me a while to actually see them…). And stepping into the large entrance, with a very cold employee on the steps welcoming us, the chorus of seemed to reach a crescendo. It was one of those movie moments where everything, save the angels’ “Hallelujahs” diminished to just me, myself, and Topshop, a moment where my eyes knew not where to look or what to touch first.

I died.

Immediately I gravitated all things sequined, which pulled me to the racks on the left. And this is where I died again, at the moment I spied this cream-coloured, entirely sequined cardigan. My heart palpitated, I sighed, and picked up the darling thing of perfection, caressing the material. It was light, yet heavy with the sequinry. Per.fec.tion. Of course I was not alone in my love for it; a sweet girl, perhaps in her early twenties was searching for a size four. A conversation ensued, in which she told me she had come back to finally buy it after eyeing it for some time. (This girl should/could be a model – quite tall, blonde, with pretty features, dressed casually but looks so chic.)

All three (or was it four?) floors were equally stunning. I died at everything in view (this studded bandage skirt in particular caught my eye; it was beyond unbelievable in person), and le sigh-ed at everything my hands touched. In a way it was heaven, yet hell-ish in tempting me to want every item (limited cash on my persons was the only thing that stopped me from going completely insane grabbing this and that off the racks).

So I guess you could say I died at its steps and went to heaven. Or hell, depending on how you look at it.

Wearing: gray & black leopard print blouse (my new favorite top at the moment) // black lace camisole (the round, turquoise button would be my admission into the Met) // tailored shorts // patent flats // silver Eiffel Tower pendant // (not shown: silver bangle & leather wrap bracelet, courtesy of M.)

And yes my loves, that would be M. & I at the Met; yours truly on the left, and M. on the right. Alas, I’ve succumbed, so I suppose this would be the first outfit post.

bisous,

La C.