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Once Upon A Time

October 21, 2019

What, at first, seemed to, almost, go down the memory lane as a heavy thought, became, in the end, not only one of the best days of my life, but, also, the trigger for me to drink, without even realising, three cups of coffee, in a row, at a party, earlier today. Now, I know why. So that I could not sleep, turn my disco ball on and write.

If I only knew that I’d be writing, years later, about the day I got to the Notting Hill police station, I would have tchin-tchined the heaven out of everyone at the station, with those umbrella drinks. Supposedly, everyone who gets to police stations, in London, gets a cocktail, at the entrance. Thank you, stars, for transforming that day into this! A mystical unfolding of a Sunday my brother and I will remember forever.

Two of my brother’s former high school classmates restarted, whilst living in London, the music band they’d started in high school. Playing in the band is what they do, in their free time. One of them is the owner of the coolest guitar shop the Gallagher brothers are frequent customers of. The other one is the chef of a chic, top secret and popular, of course, place for breakfast. I had the juiciest salmon eggs Benedict of my life there, on the same Sunday.

The band used to be a Beatles tribute. Now, they make their own music, alongside the drummer of Groove Armada. The three of them rehearse, on Sundays, out of passion, and, it’s on the aforementioned Sunday, that my brother and I joined them, in the tiny basement of a hidden bar, in Soho, very few knew about. The two of us sat, on the floor, and took it all in. The three of them, basically, rocked the basement of the bar Amy Winehouse used to hang out in and sing. For fun and pleasure.

I asked a bartender what she was like. I knew, but hearing someone who knew her speak about her was as touching as I’d anticipated. She was just so sweet

Listening to loud music I adore has run through my veins, ever since I can remember myself. I don’t care and I care the most, at once. It’s magic! 

We left the bar, in time to catch the last tube, from somewhere to somewhere, and head home. I’ll never forget the strong wind connecting the cars of the subway and us all, as a band, somehow. We were all standing up, holding on to the bars, slightly stretching, our bodies were, naturally, going with the flow, at high speed, just like in a video, talking, not talking, watching, hair tossing. A genuine cheer had been invading our souls, all day long. We had a blast. It was the real deal. It felt like home.

My brother’s friends knew me from when I was a kid, from when they used to come to our house, for the parties my brother used to throw, the parties our parents knew nothing about.

My phone had been stolen, in the morning of the same day. A splendid, sunny spring Sunday, in the diaphanous air of London. Bright! My brother was living in London, at the time. We’d been walking, for hours, soaking in, when, as I was taking a picture, my phone was stollen, from my hands, by a ninja, on a bike. I’d never seen my brother running like the ninja that he is, but a bike was involved, for a reason, in the stream. My phone, really, needed to go, oh.

I must’ve paid too much attention to my phone, that morning, and the universe intervened. Just like it, always, does when we’re off course. Tapped my shoulder, said Hey! and, suddenly, there was nothing else left for me to do than to, completely, immerse in the day. Be aware. Amplify all of my senses. Live every moment. Enjoy everything. The best!

It’s likely for that day to have become so special to me, precisely because I had no phone to pay attention to. No other people to pay attention to, outside the group of people I was with. I like that s*it. We were in a band, for a day. Felt Amy, in a mysterious way. We might’ve gone to the police station, but those umbrella drinks were just dying to meet us, I guess.

One coffee after another is no coincidence, either. It’s my way into enjoying the lights, reflected everywhere, by the disco ball, slowly spinning, at home, right now. And be here. Just be.

Hey, hey!

Hey, hey!

Hey, this is Cristina Pavelescu wearing a music cassette sweater, decoding (life) style and writing from wherever, yet always living in OZ, a world I invite you into. To smile in front of our screens (and live one day), put any kind of questions, answer in writing (or imagination) and marvel at fashion which is, in fact, style.

FOUNDER AND EDITOR

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