After our gallivanting escapades at the Aussie party on Saturday night, there was only one thing on our minds as we arose on Sunday morning, weary-eyed and not-so bushy tailed.
FOOD...or more precisely BRUNCH!
I fully admit I am not a breakfast girl one bit. I can quite happily poodle the morning away in anticipation for lunch, but for once, I was rather excited at the prospect of a mountainous plateful of food, washed down by copious amounts of hot tea.
And to Soho we limped, blistered feet and rumbling tummies, we could not get there quick enough!
We were heading to the Breakfast Club, a highly recommended Brunch-oriented cafe, serving everything from sausage sarnies to piles of pancakes, ladened with cream and berries.
And yes...that was the queue/masses waiting to be seated. In two minds whether to stick it out or grab a cheeky chocolate bar en route to Oxford Street, we decided to be dignified and joined the queue with hopeful anticipation.
Well, I was so thankful we did...
We spent many a moment lingering over the quaint mix of vintage clothing and accessories, wigs and hats, and reverted to school children, trying on the unique and bizarre pieces they had to offer, stifling giggles away from the sale assistants.
Once inside we were confronted with such welcoming oddities. A wall plastered with polaroids and postcards, and a giant carrot casually hanging from the ceiling. An old-style specials board was posing in the corner and plastic-covered checked cloths adorned the tables.
And then the food arrived. A veggie fry up, with pancakes and maple syrup on the side!
It was blissful. Good quality, freshly-made, delivered-with-a-smile food!
I had never really had a fry-up before, a) because I am vegetarian and b) I am just not that into my breakfasts...but I believe I may have been converted if I could dine like this every morning.
Now, suitably fuelled and watered, we made tracks around the corner and couldn't help but pay homage to Beyond Retro and see what we could forage.
If you haven't heard of Beyond Retro before, they are a stream of vintage clothing stores, stuffed to the rafters of one-off, hand picked garments, often spanning centuries and all harbouring a story to be told.
They are infamous for their tutus, proffering a kaleidoscope of colours. The stores are so alluring, laced with dusty sentiment and trunks of silken fabrics.
We left empty handed, but solely inspired and went to enjoy the rest of the day in the sunshine, and watch the world go by...
A perfectly poetical and whimsical way to spend a Sunday if I do say so myself.