We so pretty! You should have seen us singing along, badly, with all the wrong words, to Brigitte Bardot's "Je n'ai besoin de personne en Harley Davidson" or talking to each other in pig German. I note that my face is looking very fat and puffy from a diet of nothing but fucked up broken biscuits for approximately a week. Delightful.)
1. I know you can't really see her properly, but she was wearing red tights and a red turtle neck under black sequinned hot pants, Margot Fonteyn head plaits and a necklace made of giant pine cones. AWESOME.
Occasionally, the monologue would be accompanied by a hallucination of an apoplectically furious and scornful Alan Sugar.
"Did ya even work aht yer facking margins? Well, DIDYA???"
(no suralun, sir, but we gave 100000%, grovel, bluster, slither out of blame, etc etc until despatched mercilessly)
At the end of the long, looooong day, much of which was spent concerned about how to transport a clothes rail the size of a ten year old, and laughing in semi-hysteria, I found myself trying to explain this to a taxi driver. This was distinctly not my finest hour, which he then he compounded by making me explain the principle of the primacy of EU law. Drunk and exhausted and smelling like a tandoori lamb chop.
Anyway, screw that, here are a couple of extra pictures of Craftacular weirdness.
2. I had to pretend to be taking a photo of City Road, but look past him at SKI SUIT WOMAN. I should say that the hall was boiling, a fug of crafter sweat and tears and cake, but ski suit/furry hat woman, who was entirely dedicated to her total look, did not even flinch.
3. Not an outfit, but the magnificently weird taxidermy stall. Look at the lamb in a box! Wee Birdy has better pictures here.
These were only edited highlights. Damn, how I love East London. I went to Poundland for safety pins in 5 inch spike heels, an asymmetric batwing jersey dress and a floral apron with "shite" embroidered on it at half ten in the morning and noone batted an eyelid. I don't have a photo, but there were also bouncers on the door, just in case the crafters turned violent and started laying into one another with their crochet hooks and pinking shears, which tickled me hugely.
I am going to lie down somewhere very dark now, where there are only savoury foods. I promise not to mention biscuits for a very very long time.