Sunday Wise

April 22, 2013
I spend Sunday at the Ivy Club, at the very kind invitation and hospitality of Hamish. T'was a nice change from having a lie-in (read---hangover) and feeling serious religious guilt about missing church service, as I usually do. It was of course Sunday Wise, a monthly event at The Club at The Ivy, "for those who like to think while they drink" with "an exclusive line up of speakers, innovators and artists on the last Sunday of every month". Oh dear, I copied and pasted that from Sunday Wise's Twitter, but like i explained to Amber about the popularity of Tumblr and Pinterest quotes "They succinctly and eloquently sum up what I'm trying to say, kind of like carrying this handbag to express my personality". Oh god, did I liken fashion to quotes and to Twitter blurbs? Brain, how do you make these leaps? 

Being a good friend, I asked The Right Dishonourable Max Clarke (a courtesy he sometimes inadvertently fails to extend in kind *glares*) to join us for an afternoon of talks, networking, and Sunday lunch.

Typically caustic, all day he mocked me and called me a hipster. And for that I suitably punished him all day by punching the massive taxi-wound bruise on the back of his leg. Until he threatened to sneeze all over my glorious hair, from which point I was sure to administer damage to his bruise from a safe distance.

I had the last word, singing (screaming) along to Taylor Swift on the ride home. Trouble-trouble-trouble-oh-oh-OH! Michiekins, aren't you glad you're no longer my daily torture toy? 

The Ivy Club greets us with their iconic glass elevator and stunning orchid displays my mother would kill for. To say nothing of the tiny, sun-drenched courtyard filled with green that lifted my spirits and matched the clothes I wore.

Hamish and the ever elusive Viktor, Chancellor of The Last Tuesday Society whose shop of the same name is responsible for the curious and morbid artefacts that decorate my apartment. I've lost count of the people who've tried to steal my taxidermied crow and tiger cub skull...

Steve Nallon shows us why he's the best Baroness Thatcher impersonator there is; not only is his impression of her voice frighteningly and hilariously accurate but the resemblance (in drag) is uncanny.

I nearly split a seam laughing at his impression of The Dowager Countess of Grantham at lunch, "What is a weekend?" Oh, I was transported back to the good old days when Downton Abbey was still a happy place and everyone was still alive. Sybil! Matthew! *sobs*

Mr. Nallon doing what he does best.

Max Wallis treated us to a reading of his poetry, from his poetry film with Harper's Bazaar about the fashion world. Only he can wax lyrical about fabrics and buttons and make it sound so emotive. 

Amber Atherton talks about the impact and popularity of inspirational and motivational quotes. Many of the examples she presented I've spotted, pinned, and reblogged on Tumblr and Pinterest. Oh quotes! They are the accessory for the thinker, just as your shoes speak about your person, the inspirational quotes you reblog express the change you wish to see in yourself. I for one would prefer to be judged not by my threads but by the things I post on my Tumblr...oh wait...maybe used to be chockfull of darkness and nihilism. 

Viktor tells us a macabre little bedtime story, from the Brother's Grimm, in his imitable way. His singing about the boy who was killed, eaten, and turned into a bird will haunt me..."My mother she killed me, my father he ate me, my sister she buried me..." And they all lived happily ever after! According to medieval standards, that is.

The hilarious and incredibly inappropriate comedian Vikki Stone  titillated us with dirty ditties, filthy songs, and singled out Max for a song about, um, *whispers* manhood size.

To roaring applause, she sang a rousing rendition of the Jurassic Park song which will now be stuck in my head all week until I watch the movie at least 3 times to exorcise it.

  Danana! Dananana, danananaaaa----!   

In between the talks and comedy we sat down to a very civilised late lunch. Civilised as opposed to what, one asks? That, we do not speak of.

Making a first impression with my business cards, which went down a treat with feminists everywhere. The illustrations are from my Meat series, which is all about turning male chauvinism around and treating men as trophies based on their good looks. 

Beautiful little appetisers which I was mocked for taking photos of. I AM NOT A HIPSTER, but then again a hipster would say that wouldn't they? And now we're going to steal your flute sound bite!

Pretty little parcels of food, perfect for lighter summer meals.

I enjoyed the crispy pork belly.

Out of focus photo of crab, because I am bad at being a hipster.

Chocolate souffle and popcorn ice-cream. Popcorn is my new favourite flavour, and definitely deserving of being a food group on its own.

Ending with a blurry photo of Viktor and I.

Loved Sunday Wise, I'll be back for more.


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