With the peeling paint-scales, take-away greasy wood-steel-glass display counters and cloudy-glass fronted refrigerators still bearing the “Groovy” soft-drink brand circa 1960, it’s apparent that the proprietors of Mansoor’s Sweetmeats have never allowed a feng shui consultant to step through the doors of the corner café. But they do make the best Jalebi in the city, which is why we found ourselves queuing for the freshly fried orange-indulgent-syrupy-luscious-dipped sweetmeat on a Friday afternoon in frantic Fordsburg.
This dress spoke to me at Off The Catwalk in Mayfair. Each little sequin had a shiny pouty mouth that trilled, "uber-celeb...trés bon chic bon genre...you will look so hot in this...".
I didn't buy it. Where could I possibly go wearing what looks like pretty-rainbow-vomit? I'd be overdressed as a wedding guest and since Daniel Craig hasn't been returning my calls, I won't be coyly dodging papparazzi at any A-list parties soon. Sigh.