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Saturday, 6 April 2013
Amsterdam: Day 1: Donderdag .(scribbled at 15:19 )


The best holidays are those that are filled with an abundance of galleries, wine bars and an entire good chunk of apple tart.  In a nutshell, that’s all I got up to in Amsterdam, but because I like a good internet nattering, I’m going to stretch out a few blog entries devoted to my Netherlands gallivanting because I know you all just can’t resist seeing photographs of me sizing up pieces of my own birthday cake, non?



Unflattering photograph of me stuffing my face over, let’s continue in what was the sugariest few days of my life. Prepare for many a photograph of cake and contemporary art over the following few posts. Admittedly, the breakfast I baked for my mother and I before checking in for our flight should have been a little healthier, but I was so proud of my home baked croissants* that I just couldn’t resist scoffing these on the Piccadilly line to Heathrow. If you see the previous post, I should have mentioned that I had one or two brownies left over from birthday cake shenanigans at work, so I wrapped my croissant dough around these for a new artery-destroying take on pain au chocolat. They were so immensely divine, it almost made waking up before 6am to try and cram everything into my weekend bag seem kind of worth it.


Although the inevitable feeling of travelling is quite exciting at the time, I hate packing. There’s just something about trying to plan each outfit and exactly what you’ll need for a set period of time that doesn’t quite put me at ease. Especially when you’ve got to cram it into a 12kg hand luggage allowance imposed by your airline. Thankfully, royal Dutch airlines (KLM) are pretty lenient when you go to check in, and I developed a crush on them after the complimentary stroopwaffel and brilliant red wine they serve on board. There is nothing quite like trying to navigate a new foreign language and airport when you’re a wee bit pissed.

I’ve been back in London a month now, and I’m already longing to visit again just by writing this post. The architecture is brilliant, and peeking into an estate agent window or two in Amsterdam revealed that these 17th century canal ring houses are much more affordable than any Georgian terrace in London.



The Dutch are a particularly friendly bunch too- locals actually went out of their way to ask us if we needed directions to somewhere in the city, which is utterly mind blowing. Generally, if a tourist approaches a Londoner for directions they run in the opposite direction at full speed, as their hectic schedule simply does not allow time for helping a tourist in their own city. What was more impressive, is that 10minutes into arriving at Centraal station, the hottest Dutch man ever asked to take a photograph of me when he noticed my mother was still trying to get the hang of using my DSLR. This made my day  week month. Unfortunately my hair looks ridiculously white against the background...


We spotted these seats outside our hotel, that run along adjacent to the Stedelijk Museum. They're so comfy!



We took it relatively easy after checking into our hotel on Museumplein, and stocked up at the local Albert Heijn for more stroopwaffel. Not exactly a necessity, but syrup-filled waffels are worryingly addictive in Holland. I wish a branch of this supermarket would open in England. Not only are all Dutch supermarkets stocked with an amazing amount of artisan chocolates, but this one actually stocks a wine called ‘Fat Bastard’. Oh, how delightful it would be to pop into Waitrose tomorrow afternoon and ask for a bottle of that.

I was utterly delighted that I was living next door to the Stedelijk for the next few days, so I wandered around its vast collection for the remainder of the evening. If you’re on short on time and can’t justify the €17.50 entrance fee, then pop into the gift shop for sure. There’s a plethora of bookcases dedicated to art and design, and they have a really cool selection of unique gifts for anyone. My mom was a little entranced by their home interiors section, and after buying a few little museum souvenirs I found myself leafing through a publication about Alvar Aalto.

 The museum has a brilliant collection of furniture and design. This is Milkflessenlamp (Milk Bottle Lamp) by Tejo Remy, who hails from the Netherlands. Although I prefer this version that the Stedelijk have in their own collection, you can buy singular milk bottle lamps from the designer, for somewhere in the region of €120. To see his work a little closer to home, I suggest you head over to the V&A and gorm at 'You can't lay down your memories' for several minutes. It's in the National Art Library over there, and his use of reclaimed existing furniture is pretty impressive too.




I really like Joseph Kosuth's "Five Fives (to Donald Judd)" (1972. Above photograph). And there was a pretty garish wall drawing by Sol LeWitt in their upstairs gallery too, which made me feel pleasantly sick. Through the rooms dedicated to suprematism and German Expressionism, I was thrilled to walk into Matisse's "La Perruchet et la Sirène" (The Parakeet and the Mermaid, 1952-53). One of his gouache on paper works, this piece was made around the same time as his famous L'escargot. 



I was somewhat against believing all those tourist guides I’d read prior to traveling, that had said to book tables in advance wherever possible. I’m pretty happy I went along with my gut instinct, as my mother and I had no problems at all in getting a table anywhere in the city for the entire 4 days. However, I should have followed The Lonely Planet Guide’s advice in which it states that not many restaurants open past 9 or 10 at night. Of course, I’d spent far too much time with the Futurist paintings and now we were utterly famished, and restaurants were few and far between at this time.

Well, there’s this place a little further South West than Museumplein called ‘La Falote’, and it was pretty much down to the pun in the name alone that we ended up dining there...and partly because I'd spotted a few Thonet chairs at one of the back tables. Leaning towards mainly Dutch cuisine, La Falote was somewhat of a haven amongst the usual touristy streets of Amsterdam-Zuid. A cosy and intimate space, the walls are adorned with various Amsterdam ephemera and letters to Peter van der Linden , the restaurant’s owner and chef.

I was nearly swayed by vegetarian salad, but I gave into the enormous plate of potatoes that came alongside the daily special of ‘Grandma’s Fried Chicken’. Whilst I’m aware of how unappetising the name of that dish sounds, I physically can’t describe how utterly delicious it was. Based on a unique recipe concocted by dear old Peter the most incredible piece of carcass arrived drenched in a sea of rich sauces and herbs. I have never tasted roast potatoes that were this damn tasty. I’m afraid I’m not cool enough to instagram everything I eat, so you’ll just have to take my word for it!

The restaurant was pretty quiet on this Thursday evening, which meant that the waitress gave me and my mother her undivided attention (and endless baskets of garlic bread- hurrah!), but the best part was getting to know Peter van der Linden’s other craft: music. In between visits to the kitchen to check on how the chicken was cooking, Peter would come out and start playing his accordion! I thought I was fairly skilled at multitasking, but I am now sold to the next man who can cook me dinner and serenade me at the same time. Although the selection of desserts sounded pretty tempting, all those potatoes had given me a food baby so I passed on the pudding. If you’re planning a visit, I should warn you that it’s a little pricey (Grandma’s Fried Chicken cost a whopping €17, 50 each!), but totally worth it. Words cannot describe what it’s like watching your mother get serenaded by an accordionist as she tries to delicately nibble on a chicken leg.

Ps: If you remember my earlier posts at the beginning of March and the end of February about how much I was aching to try Cocomaya’s Liqorice and Hemp Dark Chocolate… Well, I persisted for 4 days straight  trying to finish this bar and I couldn’t even eat more than a few lines of it. It tasted absolutely vile, and after a brief spell trying to not regurgitate it, I can safely say I’ve been put off liquorice altogether. That said, Cocomaya do a Paris Tarte Tatin Chocolate too, so there’s always room for further chocolate based experimentation.

*okay, so they weren’t entirely homemade. I’d discovered Jus-Roll’s ready-to-roll croissant dough in Sainsbury’s a few weeks ago and I do genuinely believe this has changed my life for the better.


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Wednesday, 6 March 2013
Off to Amsterdam/See you next week. .(scribbled at 23:05 )

A few years ago, I had a job at a contemporary gallery which largely involved arranging itineraries, transportation and accommodation for an artist. As demanding a role as this sounds, it was actually one of the best experiences of working in galleries that I’ve had. The artist was an absolute pleasure to work with (and shared a love of patatas bravas, which can only be a good thing! I now work in a very different department, which is equally incredible, albeit a tad less glamorous at times: 


Now, fast forward a few years and it is a whole different story. I am meant to be on a flight to Amsterdam in 12 hours, and I have literally spent my entire evening pigging out on cakes and brownies due to stress. Along with the internet intermittently breaking, I am actually finding it somewhat impossible to check myself in for my own flight. This is ridiculous… I have become somewhat inept at confirming my own itinerary, but could manage someone else’s at complete ease a few years ago. Anyway, I was suddenly thinking about how this reminds me of my friend Lucy’s blog post, which is aptly titled “Stressed is Desserts Spelt Backwards”. That said, as much as I wanted to be a good blogger and post about a cake I made to help relieve stress, I’m going to have to ‘fess up and just admit that I ate a box of Sainsbury’s brownies and an entire Victoria Sponge to myself instead (see photograph*). Yes, as much as my waistline is not thanking me for either of those, at least I stayed loyal to the name of my blog, right? Hopefully, tomorrow afternoon will be spent with both Vermeer and Victoria Sponge at the Rijksmusuem. That’s if I manage to finally manage to navigate this online check in process….


In the meantime, it is my birthday this weekend and I’m currently in a quandary of what to treat myself to. It’s a pretty big birthday (boo!) but that means that splashing out is entirely justifiable. I’ve wanted a McQueen skull scarf for a fair few years now, but for the past few months I’ve became a little bit obsessed with the razor blade motif. I love this one fromHarvey Nicks, although I really can’t decide if I should be looking at an investment piece, like a watch, or something that I actually need.

I think I’m becoming too sensible for my own good.

*The rest of those delicious cakes in the photograph weren’t actually all scoffed by me. I shared the coffee and chocolate cakes with folk at work, for a bit of pre-birthday celebrations. The other box of brownies I gave to one of the homeless guys on Euston road.

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Tuesday, 22 January 2013
neigé dans/new amsterdam moleskine. .(scribbled at 21:40 )

A fleeting visit to Somerset House last weekend.

Well, if 2 weeks back in Midlands over Christmas didn’t bring me to insanity due to an excessive amount of boredom, then 48hrs spent snowed in did. Armed with only a Moleskine sketchbook and my new Chloé dupes (see previous post), I travelled all the way up for what was going to be a weekend of champagne, pizza and other classy birthday shenanigans. Here in Grande Bretagne, and especially in obscure Midland towns, we generally have a rule of halting all public transport once someone has spotted a single snowflake falling from the sky, which resulted in Friday afternoon being spent trapped in my childhood home, forcing me to endure my younger sister’s addiction of Jeremy Kyle.

Luckily, I still get all my post sent to my mother's house, so I arrived back to a stupid amount of parcels from a wee bit of online shopping, as well as this gift off Glamour Magazine. I've been a member of their reader panel for years and I honestly can't rave about it enough. Providing you submit a decent review to them after, they'll send you a plethora of items to trial for them. From endless boxes of Special K to yet-to-be-released make up, it's always useful things too. They sent me through a bottle of Rimmel foundation not too long ago and I've actually been quoted word for word on their advertising campaigns, haha. Anyway, for those fellow blondes out there, this is by far the best shampoo I've came across for maintaining colour. Evidently, my eyebrows tend to give away the fact that I am obvs not a natural blonde, so getting my hair colour to stay platinum blonde without turning into a horrific shade of grey can be somewhat a  laborious and expensive time waster. The smell's not too amazing, but this conditioner is the best thing since buttery sliced bread. Okay, nothing beats buttery sliced bread, but I've spent loads on hair products to maintain the colour, and this is by far the best coloured hair conditioner I've come across yet.



I'm also doing my bit to make sure that Moleskine aren't affected by the economic climate by continuing to spend stupid amounts of my salary of stationery. I just had to get one of these bad boys for my trip to Amsterdam in 6 (!!) weeks time. For what is essentially a small notebook with a street map, these are a tad overpriced (rrp is £12) unless like me, you're planning to actually go on holiday without an enormous guide book. No one actually uses their entire guidebook on holiday, do they? By having a dedicated notebook for the city you're visiting, you get to pick and choose recommendations from books, friends and Google and compile them into your own tailor made city guide. What's more, it's encouraging me to research into the city more and plan it out properly. Previous holidays have always been on a whim, which is great now and then but with a mere 4 precious days in the Netherlands, I really want to make the most of it. You create your own tabbed pages in the notebook too, so in addition to the pre-made 'Restaurants/Cafés/Shops' tabs in the Moleskine, I've made my own little 'Museums' and 'Galleries' tabs too. Yes, even in my twenties, I still have an obsession with well designed stationery.





I'll try to keep Amsterdam-related waffling to a minimum over the next few posts, but I am so excited about Vermeer, Rembrandt and those adorable little houses that sit along the canals. Yesterday's tube journey consisted of drawing my own little Amsterdam house, which was quite an impressive feat, given the usual Monday morning claustrophobia that occurs on the Victoria line.


I wore trainers to a Valentino exhibition. Ultimate sartorial fail, I know.

Fortunately, before this minor blizzard hit us all, I managed to catch up on gallery visits. Tim Walker: Storyteller and Valentino: Master of Couture at Somerset House are amazing. The glass cabinets in the latter exhibition are held up by these beautiful Louis chairs. After an endless amount of beautiful sketches and dresses, I’m not ashamed to admit that my personal highlight of the exhibition were the chairs- if I don’t get round to writing a Chair Lust of the Month post before February comes along, just assume that I’m still dreaming about the masses of creamy upholstered Louis ones that are currently sitting in the basement of the Embankment galleries.

If Walker’s photographs of Alber Elbaz in sets of bunny ears weren’t enough to float my boat, then Valentino’s sketches certainly were. Meandering through those shows was such a lovely treat for a wet and windy Sunday afternoon in grim London. I find fashion illustration so beautiful, and somewhat depressing as well. As a fully-fledged short arse… (I was under the impression I was 5’ 4” until I saw my GP last week, who politely informed me I was a whole inch shorter. It put a downer onto the beginning of 2013, I assure you.) … anyway, as much as I like looking at designer sketches, they’re a pertinent reminder of my non- altitudinous legs. Regardless of this, I’ve now covered my 2013 diary in Valentino-inspired sketches where my weekly ‘To Do’ list would normally go. Whoops, there goes space to focus on productivity this year.

I pondered over doing an OOTD (that's an 'Out of The Door' for you non-blogging folk) about what I wore to the Gerard Byrne Private View at Whitechapel Gallery last week, but instead wasted my tube journey this morning by sketching it instead. Okay, so this sequinned skirt and leather t-shirt from Zara didn't quite coordinate brilliantly, but it's January and I'm clinging onto any festivity left within me before it gets any colder this month. Everyone needs sequins.



I'm jumping on the first train to Liverpool after work on Friday and for once, it's actually going to be warmer up north. Mental!

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Sunday, 13 January 2013
Failed 2013 Resolution. Dam Style. .(scribbled at 13:47 )

Contrary to everything in the previous post about trying to be self-indulgent in the sense of spending money on experiences, rather than material things during 2013, well… whoops.



Yes. This happened. A mere couple of days following a blog entry about resisting the lure of a Zara sale, I ended up spending literally every lunch break this week meandering through the rails of its Knightsbridge store. 2 bags, numerous shirts and a few pairs of shoes from Office later and I am already skint without even getting through January!  I don’t know how I’m managing to survive a life in London without an overdraft on my bank account. Anyway, I’m not a good enough blogger to photograph everything I bought, so here are a few snippets.



I’m planning to do one of those What’s In my Bag style entries that have been circulating the blogosphere for a while, so I’ll take a photograph of the whole of the bag in the next few days. For now though, I’m particularly fond of the detail that goes into the bags that Zara retail. Okay, so I know that no one actually sees the inside pocket of a handbag, but it’s the little things that count. I was pretty tempted to go for a Zara tote, but living in London has given me an irrational fear of pickpocketers, and I don’t like the idea of having a bag that isn’t rain-proof so I always opt for a satchel or backpack.




I also bought my first pair of wellies. (btw, I keep trying to type ‘wellies’ into Blogger and it keeps autocorrecting it to ‘willies’, which is ridiculously frustrating on this time on a Sunday afternoon). They too, were a sale find in the Oxford Street branch, and at £45 they can be justified with the amount that it rains in Blighty. Can’t seem to find them online, but they can be bought here.

I didn’t even make it out of the shop before trying on a pair of last season’s Nighthawk boots, which are hands down the best dupes of the Susanna boots by Chloé. Unfortunately, the black leather ones had completely sold out and they only had the red and white versions in my size, which was rather disheartening. I’d started saving for them when they were on the shelves at £80, so to find out they were just £35 meant I ended up scouring every branch of Office on Oxford Street for a pair of size fives. Half an hour later, I found myself practically dancing in its branch in the basement of Topshop Oxford Circus when I snapped up one of the remaining pairs. Although I really like the Chloé SS2013 collection of Susanna boots, which come in a selection of muted blue, grey and nude, I’m pretty damn ecstatic with these black Office ones. And even if I could get away with not paying rent for a month, the Susannas are far too expensive to even be considered an investment (see here). £800?!




…anyway, so after that mishap of spending, I ended up booking a flight to Amsterdam for my birthday in March. I am so happy and excited already that it kind of makes up for how much I wanted to cry on Wednesday night at the thought of how penniless I had inevitably become after booking 3 night stay in a hotel next to the Stedelijk museum for me and my mother. If you read my last post on here, then no, I still haven’t got round to telling her that it’s a holiday dedicated to Johannes Vermeer.

As a result, I’m now tied down to London until I actually board that plane (it seemed way easier to arrange flights rather than a Eurostar ticket) at Heathrow because I can’t afford to go anywhere else for the next 8 weeks (boo!). That said, I’m in Birmingham next weekend for 3 sets of birthday shenanigans and then the week after that I’m in Liverpool which I also can’t quite contain my excitement for. Although, maybe that’s because I forked out for a Virgin train, so now I feel like I’m living the high life, haha.

So, yes. I can’t leave London AT ALL in February because I’ll be too busy living on a diet of 11p noodles from Sainsbury’s and trying to live on next to nothing. Pretty sure this could be a blessing in disguise though as London is the best place to be for exhibitions in February. With a Picasso show at theCourtauld and A ROY LICHTENSTEIN RETROSPECTIVE AT TATE (that needed to be capitalised- Lichtenstein was my favourite artist throughout secondary school, so when I heard about Tate’s exhibition programme for 2013, I nearly wet myself).

No, I haven’t met Lichtenstein (obvs), I just think this postcard I bought from Ikon Gallery’s shop looked pretty nice on this bright yellow Archie Grand Journal.

I’ve also found another easy way to make the next 8 weeks pass: Dam Style. A blog that documents Amsterdam’s street style is essential research, right? Although after the plethora of checked patterns on there, it’s making me cave in and buy a pair of checked trousers that I spotted in Zara on Friday. Merde.

Anywho, I’m popping off now to catch the Tim Walker show at Somerset House for the remainder of the afternoon. 

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Sunday, 6 January 2013
ça alors, c'est déjà Janvier! .(scribbled at 14:52 )


My 10 days away from work flew by far too fast; I can’t quite believe we’re a week into January already! I’ve noticed that most bloggers are writing about their New Year’s Resolutions, some of which talk about losing weight from their already emaciated figure. Believe me, I like the idea of being able to resist cake occasionally, but it just ain’t gonna happen. I got back from London on Wednesday night to find a belated Christmas gift of chocolate truffles and pannetone from Carluccio’s, and managed to scoff them all within a matter of minutes.

 I have no willpower, so I don’t usually bother with resolutions but I think this year I’m going to be a little more self-indulgent. Okay, that sounds ridiculous but I don’t mean it in the sense of the oh-my-god-everyone-look-at-this-weeks-Zara-haul kind of thing. That kind of post is great now and again, but after rent, £120 on my zone 1-2 Oyster and money for food each month (with a large amount being spent on the latter…), let’s just say that the Zara/Topshop/Asos/Urban Outiftters spending sprees (delete as appropriate) are a bit too expensive to be a realistic resolution. I’m thinking more along the lines of taking long walks, drawing more, choosing to spend my money on experiences rather than shoes, and actually getting round to reading the 4 shelves of artist monographs currently lurking in the corner of my room. It’s a pretty attainable resolution, and as I type this I’m actually booking Eurostar tickets to Amsterdam in another browser tab. I’ve asked my mother if she wants to come along with me, but I haven’t quite got round to telling her that I’m only going all that way to see The Night Watch by Rembrandt. Little does she know I’m planning to spend hours in the Rijksmuseum marvelling at Vermeer paintings. We may have to meander through the many chic bars and restaurants for her own sanity.

I’m back in London now (booo!) and so I’ve been fruitlessly trying to distract myself from longings for the north of England by a few gallery visits and an excessive amount of retail therapy. I went to the Serpentine Gallery on Friday for the Jonas Mekas exhibition, and I really am trying to resist raving about it for the rest of this blog entry. If you’re interested in self-documentation (I’m assuming you are, given that you’re reading a blog) then it’s a must visit. Based in New York, the poet and film maker’s retrospective is fundamentally felt like a large inspiring real-life-Tumblr. Well, it’s obviously a lot more than that, but it’s quite incredible to see how prolific an artist’s career can be, especially one that circulates around documentation in the form of diaristic film making and photography.

Yesterday, I joined a 3 hour queue to see the Rain Room at Barbican, but caved in 45 minutes later when my friend rang and said he was in London, asking if I wanted to go for a coffee and catch up instead. I tried out his pretty awesome new camera:


If any of you have been to the Rain Room you must simply tell me whether the 3 hours queue can be justified for a visit. I didn’t get round to re-joining the queue, but I saw Hannah Sawtell’s installation at Bloomberg Space instead:


Whilst walking back via Old Street, I popped into The Grocery on the bottom of the Kingsland Road to get a little something for my friend’s mom’s birthday. It’s the most brilliant shop for bizarre tea infusions and rich coffee, and I bought her a box of Earl Grey Teapigs. If you haven’t tried Teapigs before, you really ought to. When I was last at The Brink in Liverpool, I tried a mug of the Chocolate Flake Tea and bought an entire box of them immediately. Yes, they’re a little expensive but they’re not that widely stocked so they make quite a cute, well-packaged gift.




...And ignoring everything I said at the beginning of that second paragraph, I went on a huge Zara haul. Although I did most of it online I really recommend the Knightsbridge store. It’s right next door to Harrods but is far less crowded than all the ones on Oxford Street, and has a better pick of the sale items too. I managed to restrain myself from buying more than a bagful of things from Muji, but ended up blowing some money on a pair of Nike hi tops (whoops…). Happiest purchase was sans nul doute this tube of almond hand cream from The Body Shop. I wear gloves for work, which combined with the inevitable skin-nightmare of winter, has really dried out my hands recently. This is a really intensive moisturiser for a pretty damn good price (£5). It felt even better when I didn’t pay a thing for it too- my January issue of Glamour magazine came with a £15 gift card for The Body Shop, which I’ve used on various other shower gels, and on Satsuma-scented mini hand sanitizer (although a necessity, commuting on the tube is dirty business indeed).


After 18 months of intelligible scribbling, I’ve had to replace my Moleskine diary too. That excitement of getting a fresh new exercise book in school has never actually gone away, even years after leaving secondary school. I’ve opted for a 12 month diary this time, which I suppose could help with that ‘new year, new start’ feeling that I’ve yet to experience. I ended up meeting Ed Ruscha the day I bought my last diary and he very kindly signed it for me, so maybe this year’s resolution could be to get another artist signing this diary? 

I hope you all had a brilliant New Year! After the trauma of NYE 2011, where I stood waiting for the Westminster fireworks in a packed crowd for 6 hours desperately needing the loo, I decided to keep it lazy this time by spending some time at my friend’s house with a bottle of Pinot Noir and the Hootenanny. SO Wild.Ho

Jonas Mekas continues at The Serpentine Gallery until 27 January 2013.
Hannah Sawtell: Vendor continues at Bloomberg Space until 12 January 2013.

www.serpentinegallery.org
www.bloombergspace.com

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about
diaristic ramblings about architecture, design, art, baking and shoes.

...all posts penned by Vikki, a twenty-something girl based in London (but currently having itchy feet and wanting to move back to Neuilly).

all these poorly taken photographs are indeed my own.


Vermeer's Victoria Sponge.