July 16, 2014
Brick Lane welcomes us as Banglatown, with Indian chaps pulling us into empty but suspiciously clean curry joints. The graffiti begins to appear. First slowly and then in a fell swoop. Massive murals adorning entire buildings yell lavender, pink, black and army green.
Banglatown ends and indiecity opens. Young people dressed in aged denim and clever combinations, sporting full floppy hairstyles and beautiful colours of skin. Organic street food, bakeries and art galleries fill the street that has invented a new way of living.
We plow through dusty vintage shops where old life is renewed: a new bum fills an ancient pair of jeans and old sweat cocktails with new in worn shoes. After trying on a couple different identities we hop back onto the lane.
We sit in this fairylight lit nordic café of aged wood, Marimekko pillows and cozy written all over it. Midsummer flowers fill mason jars and decorate heads. Birch trees and conrete floors argue who is more hip.
top by urban outfitters
shorts by levi's
purse by kate spade
Here we sit, scrawling away, sipping the coffee we pretend to despise back home. Ben Howard loops on the stereo and I feel I am home.