Inspired by the summery London day I turn up in Brick Lane immediately feeling rather too pastel. Surrounded in a sea of stripes, thick rimmed glasses and red lipstick, I stand out like a sore thumb in my restyled vintage yellow dress and tan suede boots.
With the destination being rough trade records, where Kurt Vile is playing a free in-store concert at 1pm, I'm lured into a nearby cafe for a bite to eat. Still starry eyed by the very edible lunch options that just weren't available in Amsterdam's world of kaas and fillet American, don't ask, I find a spot upstairs amongst the couches on one of those graffitied but in a cool way tables and devour my tasty buffalo mozzarella and rucola salad. I notice the book Orphanage in the corner but am happy to people watch. From where I sit London certainly seems more edgier than anywhere I've been before.
Sneaking in store just in as they reach capacity, I find a spot on the outskirts of gathered hipster crowd. Kurt Vile comes on opening with the very country twangy "Jesus Fever", ha hipsters, at least my outfit matches the style of music. With a slight darkness in his eyes and sweet sneaky grin that curls up the half of his face that isn't covered with his curly long brown locks, he is mesmerizing to watch. In my limited corner view that leaves me no choice but to look him straight in the eyes you can't help but feel he is looking straight back, I'm sold. With more psychedelic interludes than I'd noticed listening to his album online, its feels like he's found a good mix between 1970s rock and beautiful deep twangy heartland vocals, mixed with a touch of darkness reminiscent of 90s grunge, or perhaps its the hair making me say that. It takes me back to a warm and fuzzy place when the world was full of possibilities I spent my evenings on my parents furry brown couch exploring my Dad's record collection with the odd Nirvana interlude. That's exactly what you want from music, to transport you! The concert finishes, and on a high, I stay to drink in the surroundings of the rough trade record store. Kurt Vile is signing albums behind the counter, the guitarist from Parts and Labour, who I saw last night in some basement in Shoreditch for 8 pounds, is discussing his album cover with some girl. Just about all the albums on display are ones I've been listening to recently. I long to leave with a rough trade bag full of music, but I slightly forlornly remember that I can listen to them all for free and besides what would I do with all that plastic or vinyl. I don't even have a place to live yet! Time to go.
On the way out I stop to grab the cinnamon danish I resisted at lunchtime, to be greeted by the exclamation of a fellow customer that my dress is beautiful. Ok so perhaps I wasn't too pastel after all. Thanks lady whoever you were. I wander the rest of the Brick Lane Danish in hand, and discover the street turns very Indian with the sweet smell of curry wafting from all directions and the shops full of colorful Indian sweets and savoury treats. If only I'd had a camera this would have made for some great photos. I return happy London is a edgy and varied place, I can't wait to discover more.
