I have never been one for planning. I'm the winging-it spontaneous type. It turns out that as well as a social diary, a work calendar, a birthday book or whatever we now need a friggin art calendar.
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Being born in the 1970's my boys would say "it's a vibe." From waist-length long hair and floppy hats to free love and inner peace. I carry that "vibe" in my heart and soul. Think Chloe and Aveda (expensive, I know) and a relaxed demeanour. That's moi. In my dreams anyways.
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New York, what can I say?! The best city in the goddam world, right? You got this NYC. My love for New York is real.
When the boys were little we stayed at the Gansevoort Hotel in the meet-packing district. I left the boys playing with one of those floaty footballs you know the ones that are virtually see-through in the rooftop pool whilst I took a whizz (is that a wee? Dash might be a better word) around The Whitney. Looking back, that was irresponsible or should I say dumb? (not the first time for either).
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"Hands up this is a robbery" is the only way to describe the Museu Banksy in Lisbon. I paid my 12 euros at the desk and asked the lady what pieces I should look out for. "We don't have any original Banksy pieces, they are all reproductions" I was out of there and in there all at the same time.
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Everyone is talking about Venice right now. I realised I often talk about places I travel to but never my home. It is much harder writing about your city. So, let's think about London for just a moment.
The reason I love London is that you can be anyone you want to be. It sounds so simple. It is special. It's magical. It's freedom. It's all-inclusive. London is a sprawling multicultural metropolis. Music and madness. Unique food combinations. Artists. You name it's here. And most importantly, it brings love for one another.
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Overexcited and in love with this city I have just spent 48 hours wide awake pacing my bedroom floor in a small hotel on Calle Del Prado, Madrid. I can sleep for England (not with England) well, maybe one or two of them. It turns out I was high. High on Spanish 500mg migraine tablets. I was even thinking of walking to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza at 2.30am, now that's dedication for you!
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I couldn't decide whether to title this blog post "The Art of Getting Lost" or "Get Lost." There is a shop on Essex Road in Islington called "Get Stuffed." When I was a junior art director in advertising my copywriter and I used to call them weekly to hear the guy say: "Get Stuffed' when he answered the phone. He had a rising inflection. We giggled, "No, you get stuffed." Childish, I know. It is one of the reasons I thought this blog should be titled "Get Lost."
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