The Wanderer Returns

It's been an interesting couple of weeks that have seen me check out of La La Land, admit that I can't take any more wardrobe planning jobs and stalk clients for payment before flying out for a mini Eat Drink Reflect trip. While others do the Eat Pray Love thing, I prefer to eat whatever my heart desires, drink whatever seems like a good idea no matter the cost or time of day and reflect in my sacred spots in cities that I love. I'd been feeling a little burnt out and all roads led to Paris and London with a side trip to Frankfurt for the annual Frankfurt Book Fair with my father.

Days before my I flew out, I still didn't have a solid plan about where I was going to stay in Paris or what I was really going to do there. All I knew was that I didn't want to see that same monuments I'd seen on previous trips. I didn't want go to The Louvre and get elbowed by some masterpiece freak first thing in the morning. I didn't want to ask an armed guard to take my photo at The Eiffel Tower before standing in a queue for a crepe. I didn't want to hear whiny Orange County accents over lunch at a mediocre bistro some Lonely Planet contributor had highly recommended. I didn't know what I was going to do but had a very clear idea of what I was not willing to do. Luckily, everything fell into place just hours before my departure. The Apartment Gods had smiled upon me and an apartment I'd enquired about would be available and conveniently located close to a number of Paris Fashion Week venues. I was going to catch five days of Fashion Week! I'd left the schmoozing for show invites and applying for blogger accreditation a little late but knew I would get in. My Ancestors would 'come through' as always and I'd be right there metres away from the fashion heavyweights repping for my country.

I flew Emirates and couldn't have asked for a smoother Dubai to Paris connection and better in-flight sounds (DJ Edu's African Pop Mix). Yes one of Africa's brightest entertainment stars has a podcast on Emirates and I'm so proud. If only he knew that his mix had me getting off that flight ready to Azonto through French immigration with my beat face and super swollen ankles.

I hit my first Paris Fashion Week show venue looking like death but feeling like I was the next Nyasha Matonhodze. I didn't have an invite but I am my mother's daughter and talked my way in flashing my Zimbabwean passport charming the 'little people' who the 'big people' don't even acknowledge at events like this. These 'little people', security staff from mainly West Africa, were my invites into each and every show. I'd arrive super early introduce myself then knick off and come back confident I was going in. I'd be dressed Anna Dello Russo-ready not knowing were I'd be sitting or sometimes standing but trust that my Ancestors would talk to my contact's ancestors and it'd be fine. It always was.

Yes I am a...

Friends and followers I learnt more about fashion that week than I'd learnt in the last six months. I learnt more about proportions and fit than I'd learnt in my whole working life. I wriggled my way into shows and hurried out of them knowing that I'd only a small window to spot 'real women' who had mastered what worked for their body shape and truly owned their style. Show attendees would be dressed to the nines but were hardly real with their gaunt faces, over-the-top garments and cult status bags. Determined to see 'real women', I travelled to Belleville where I found my subjects. This neighbourhood is where I found my muses.

I ate. I drank and drank well in Paris but the deep reflection was really done in London Town which has to be my favourite city in the whole wide world (when I've got money). This city is home to a number of retailers that have always thrived on the transient consumer and I was really curious to see what changes, if any, these retailers had made since I was last there. I had retail outlets to stalk, sales assistants to probe and products to touch before meeting up with friends and guzzling martinis. But before all of that - I had a barbershop in Brixton to swing by, nails to sort out and a chapter of my life to close. 

With the hair did, nails did and closing the chapter did, I was back in Mogul Mbama mode scanning passers by and thinking of the list of retailers I needed to get through. On the train from Paris, I'd noted down which stores I had to check out and why. Selfridges was first on the list followed by Browns, Joseph, Liberty, COS, Topshop, River Island, Primark and New Look amongst others. I didn't expect to check out every single retailer and suss out every product category so focused on womenswear. If only you knew how many times I'd get side tracked and find myself in a fitting room putting looks together and playing The Currency Conversion Game. A game that I could never win. 

However, what I did win was tea with Caroline Burstein, founder of Molton Brown and Creative Director of Browns, who I met at the Alexander McQueen show venue in Paris. I was a little overwhelmed with the photographers, the fashionistas I'd only ever seen in print and the crowds anxiously waiting for Kanye who'd been rumoured to be attending the show. I just had to sit down so I plonked myself on some steps away from the action but close enough to see show attendees walk in. Out of nowhere Caroline just plonked herself right next to me and introduced herself. I already knew who she was but it was hardly the time to be fashion-influencer-struck so talked to her like she was someone I'd chat to waiting for a tram. When it was time to go in, I confessed that I didn't have an invite and had to wait for my contact to come out and rescue me. She'd have to go ahead. Sweet Caroline started looking around hoping she'd spot someone who had a spare and I was really touched. She thanked me for the chat, wished me luck getting in, handed me her card and asked me to call her when I was in London. I could hardly breath and put her card in the safest place I know, my bra. There was no way I was losing this card. No way. 

Tea With Caroline

I called
She answered
I squealed
She laughed
She checked her diary
I didn't have one to check
She suggested a time
I cancelled a threading appointment 
I walked into Browns to 'pick her up'
Her staff were perplexed
I was too
I wanted to Azonto
I wanted to Ndombolo
I wanted to say "Don't worry kids. She's coming back."
We walked out of the door
Off we went.

I usually don't drink tea
I did that day
It was great
She was great
She is great
She is an amazing person
I've asked the Ancestors to watch over her
I didn't even have to 
They've been watching over her since our meeting
I have a new friend
And her name is Caroline
I need to work really hard
I need to save
To show her MY London
Brixton here we come!

xxx

Pssssssssst ----> Guess who's back