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Image taken from up and coming designer TypeA :

 (This post has a very amateurish poetic feel to it, I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. So for the love of god, please do not think, that I believe I am a writer! Hell no! Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.)

Whilst the weather was absolutely glorious in London on Sunday 10th April, I found myself yet again in the East side of town, looking for some kind of inspiration.  What inspiration I was looking for…..I don’t know.  With cash in my pocket I decided to give myself a treat, do some vintage shopping. Why not?  After all it was sunny and I had done my Sunday *Zumba work out (the best dance class….beside ballet, sorry but I love ballet!), sweated my peachy arse off, so I deserved a treat. Having done all that, yet again I found myself in the mishmash of East London.  

I was due to be at the Rag Factory later on that day, as an Associate Artist of the fabulous *Lonyla project, but this wasn’t until 7pm and I had a lot of time to kill! I walked along the cobbles streets of Brick lane, bumped into numerous trendies, whom I had the pleasure to party with once upon a time, and eventually I was in the vintage hub – Beyond Retro. Desperately looking for some inspiration, I bought two beautiful dresses, a leopard print scarf but as for inspiration, I found none. I set on my travels again, wandering along Cheshire Street, up the stairs, down the alley way into the open park.

I sat on the crisp grass and tried to analysis everything around me, trying to absorb some kind of inspiration from my scenery but, I didn’t find any inspiration. No, instead it was realization, a realization that in order for one to be inspired, they need to challenge themselves, go to a place which they don’t know, explore and you will find what you seek. Okay now this is pretty wanky, guru shit……but I tell you I sat in that park for one hour just observing – trying to understand as to why artistically I had become a flaccid plant.

I started to think about all the decisions I had made in my life so far, all the things I have done, the friends I have made and the friends that I have unfortunately lost – either to suicide or drifting apart or because there was a misunderstanding……I thought about all the tears I have cried and the laughs that I have shared….but the most painful though of all, was knowing that I once fell in love but didn’t know how to express this love, say this love, to say this four letter word.  A friend of mine once said to me that ‘inspiration is a product of love, not love of your career, but love that a couple shares.’ I wanted to be inspired, but if I didn’t know how to express love than how could I ever be open enough to be inspired!

This thought saddened me……well just a little bit….I walked along Henage street, with 2 bags full of Beyond Retro clothes, wearing black sunglasses hiding away any trace of my discovery. Just as I was about to enter the Rag Factory, I gazed upon two young men, that seemed as though they had step out of House Party*. They were looking for a party: Don’t be a square be a Triangle, hosted by young up and coming fashion designer TypeA*  – That’s funny I thought, that phase seemed to sum up my recent discovery/ realization. For I thought I used to be a good old circle – an all round wholesome girl, embracing loving…..but at some point I turned into a square, predictable, equal, sharp and even. But what I really longed to be was a triangle…( I can’t explain what being a triangle means…..all I know is that it’s exciting.)

Like two angles these Adonis* guided me to a: Don’t be a square be a triangle party.  I was treated like a Greek goddess with wines and grapes served to me, games played, music blaring, Dionysis* would of been proud. I was calm, I was at ease, I was myself again. Everything was sudden, fresh and fun. I was introduced to many beautiful people and I we laughed and we talked. I looked around the room and what I saw was not arty farty people, not people who had nothing better to do, but people who were so happy because regardless of the blood sweat and tears, they were doing what they loved to do. A whole room of people that have turned their back on a ‘normal’ life for an adventure…..and I was a part of that…..I was there (slightly drunk) but my fucking god I was finally inspired!

Yes! I truly was, and as I result I embark a new adventure…….but that tale,  I will leave that for my next batch of rambling.

Like I said I am not a writer, just a blabber, a girl that asks many questions but never knows how to collate the answers. So for the  of love god, please do not think that I believe I am a writer! Hell no! Just a normal girl with nothing more to say, than words that mean nothing but say something.)

 The words that have been stared have links to them, click on the word and all will be revealed!

taken by TYPEA

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