Kinky La Rue

I made it back over to Westfield shopping centre yesterday. It is indeed a beautiful place, a shopper’s paradise.

Anyway, I stopped in the Rigby and Peller branch there and got myself measured. I hadn’t been measured in a few years, which really is a big no-no. As a woman it’s something you’re supposed to do every year, so you don’t end up wearing ill-fitting bras.

The good news that not much has changed.  I tried on one G-cup bra which fit me perfectly, but when I tried on a different brand it didn’t exactly fit properly, so the assistant got me another bra in an H-cup…and that fit perfectly. Isn’t that strange? I guess it’s like when you go into two different stores and the one size fits you differently.

So what do I do? Advertise myself as a 40-G/H cup? I guess it’s a little extraordinary but it would be fun trying to explain that to those who ask. “Are you a G or an H cup?” “Well, according to Rigby and Peller, corsetiers to the Queen, I’m inbetween.  And if that’s what they say I am, that’ll do for me.”

They are a tad out my budget, with bras ranging from around £60-£70, but they keep their shape and last for years. I was lucky enough that a kind and lovely customer treated me to a lingerie set (in I think, either 2003 or 2004). Whilst the knickers have long gone by the wayside, would you believe the bra still fits, still holds its shape. Mind you, simply because it is Rigby and Peller, it’s not every day wear. But I try and hold out for their sale where many of their products are half-price. It’s good for a girl to have a couple of Rigby and Peller bras in her lingerie drawer.

The start of my weekend was marred by the sudden death of Michael Jackson the day before. Shock doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt at hearing the news at a quarter to midnight last Thursday night. Even given his troubles in his personal life, there was no doubt he was a musical and choreographical genius. May he find the peace that seemed to have eluded him in life.

Anyway, the weekend in Bayswater got off to a great start when I spent a few hours with one of my favourite customers. Whilst things didn’t exactly go according to plan, we still enjoyed each other’s company immensely. To the point where he took me out to dinner and treated me to a Chinese meal, seeing as it was my birthday, you know. After dinner said client and I said our goodbyes and it was back to the apartment at around 9.30, watched a bit of telly, fell asleep singing along to The Specials playing at Glastonbury.

Saturday was a slight change of plans. I was supposed to meet up with SJ, have lunch then go have a wander around Portobello Market. In the end she couldn’t make it, so I spent the day indulging in some retail therapy at Westfield Shopping Centre, a new mall that’s only been open a year or so. Bloody hell, it’s massive. It really is a shopper’s paradise. And the good thing about the place is, because it’s so big, you never felt that there were too many people there. I never felt claustraphobic like I would’ve done if I’d gone to Oxford St. I got off at Shepherd’s Bush tube and got on at White City to go home, that’s how big the place is.

Sunday was museum day. I promised myself that I’d visit the Natural History Museum during the summer, so I made Sunday the day. I forgot how massive the place was. My favourite part still is, (always has been) the dinosaur part. Loved it. Although one thing did amuse me and I found to be a little incongruous. Whilst most people were in comfortable footwear, sneakers, flip-flops, sandals, or in my case, Birkenstocks, I saw a woman who had, get this, six inch glass heels with matching glittery handbag. I don’t know if she was on her way back, or to, a nightclub. She should’ve been thrown out just for being a menace to the hardwood floor of the museum with those stupid heels. How she thought that was suitable attire for museum walking, I don’t know. With a bite of lunch, I was in there for a good three hours myself. I wonder how she fared.

My customer from Friday recommended that I try the Victoria and Albert Museum, affectionately known as the V&A. So I did. And beautiful it was too. A good word to describe it would be ornate. I have to go back there because I really didn’t leave a lot of time for both. I forgot how much time it take for one museum visit. They had different dynasties for different parts of the world, Japan, China etc. They also had fashion through the years, including a dress that Princess Di wore. They even had a panties and bra from Rigby and Peller, the gods of big posh bras; corsetiers to the Royal Family, dontcha know.  But my favourite of what I had seen so far had to be the Italian sculptures. They were simply breath-taking. As I said, I have to go back again and spend more time, there was quite a bit I didn’t get to see. My legs were killing me at this point.

I got back to the apartment at around 6 in the evening and I just spent the rest of it reading, watching Michael Jackson tributes on various music channels and the Black Eyed Peas at Glastonbury. What with the good weather, I had what I’d consider, a blindin’ weekend. A mixture of music, culture and retail therapy. What more could a girl ask for?