When a dude is lucky enough to be invited along to a gathering of twenty or so girls, his steez is inevitably going to take back seat. They’re not there to hear the storied history of a Filson Mackinaw Alaska fit vest. The lineage of a Superior Labor bucket hat is not top priority. So it was, last Saturday night at Floripa bar in Shoreditch.
There was me, my girl and loads of her beautiful friends. There was vodka, a labyrinthine smoking policy and jump-up African music. It was busy as balls and while the sauce flowed freely upstairs, it didn’t flow quite as easily downstairs – as the lanky queue for the single men’s latrine stood testament.
A great evening, with lovely people. Although, I do kind of feel my new floral pop-over from Garbstore deserved a comment or two.