Embarrassingly, regardless of the time of day, season or situation, I often
need a cup of tea. Not to say I don’t often dabble in a beverage or two (my friends can definitely agree on that), but there have been times where my beer-sipping friends have given me a raised eyebrow whilst I sheepishly sipped out of my ‘old lady’ cup and saucer. This is why I like the
Water Poet, where there is something for everyone. Located on Folgate Street, just seconds from the delights of Spitalfields Market, it is a place to quickly stop and catch your breath.
I love the air of mystery that surrounds Shoreditch House. Like with any member’s club, and any venue that attracts A-list celebs and a Daily Mail photographer, I often wondered: What on earth goes on in there? I was lucky enough to attend a party there a few months back, and being pretty clueless when it comes to directions, it took me a while to locate the entrance due to its unassuming exterior. I don’t know what I was expecting. A large neon sign? Singing and dancing doormen? It was just a building, with a normal, no-fuss door.
I discovered London-based freelance photojournalist Guilherme Zauith at the Candid Arts Studio in Angel. On display was his East London Hackney series, which may I add, completely drenched my ‘life is completely void of inspiration’ drought. Standing in front of his work sent me into an artistic alternate reality, as he had managed to capture parts of East London in such an organic and real kind of way, completely void of London’s highlighted glamour.
She hones— I hurled you Into my arms, the Cat in my voice a queen. You, ever in reserve, shied. Around us, East London took effect— A Pole, two Sicilians, married, two Greeks drinking Cobra beers, Fang in hand, Emily the scouse violinist, a German who Thought Berlin too small.
The [overrun] armadillo picked up in Texas by Ohio-based artist Shane Mecklenburger couldn’t have in its wildest dreams imagined that it would one day be cremated, and transformed into a shining piece of art. Transformed into a diamond from its ashes, Mecklenburger’s Texas armadillo will soon be on display at the 
A start-up with humble roots (in the CEO’s bedroom to be precise), Floxx recently made the move to an office in the Shoreditch area. One of the reasons for the move was to be nearer to the ‘Silicon Roundabout’, the nickname for the lively tech scene centred around the Old Street roundabout. The ‘Ditch didn’t disappoint, and we soon found ourselves immersed in the vibrant tech scene.
I don’t actually live in Shoreditch. But before you call me a fraud, bear in mind there is a genuine story behind my name; that is, how I became Shoreditch Girl. You see, before Shoreditch Girl, there was Shoreditch Boy…
All forms of life pass by my window. The street-cool kids heading for a trendy 'blitz'-feel night-out with the likes of Princess Julia - who I often see tottering past. The 'crusty' man and his dog who sit outside Tesco Metro asking for spare change. The hordes as they walk to Victoria Park for a summer festival to be repeatedly rained upon. The cyclists in Critical Mass as they pass by on a Friday night. Mums with small kids heading to the City Farm with excited or crying toddlers.
Commodities trader by day and artist extraordinaire by night, Sheiky is a man clouded in mystery with an aversion to being pigeon-holed or stereotyped. Making no mention of his origins, background, or artistic approach, he's one who definitely doesn't like to play things by the book, and who thrives on ambiguity. As Sheiky says of himself, 'he makes a conscious attempt that you don't get a chance to judge him' - and is quite successful in doing so.
After leaving the Labels Catwalk Show in nearby Rivington St. cold and hungry at 11 PM, my friend and I anxiously wandered the buzzing side streets of Shoreditch in pursuit of a hot and hearty meal. Finding ourselves at the crossroads – in both the literal and figurative sense – we were divided between going to Saf, a seemingly organic and healthy option, and Little Hanoi, an unflattering Vietnamese restaurant flooded by bright fluorescent lights, but nonetheless bustling. Being in the mood for a proper bowl of noodles, my friend was able to placate me, and lure me away from the healthy gems of Saf.
I get a little teary-eyed when I see someone sitting all alone in the local park, with not a soul or second shadow in sight. The thought often crosses my mind that I should be the one to make a difference by expanding the shadow of their loneliness; I guess I’m just scared of a negative reaction - which shouldn’t be a valid excuse - but it is.
Being a no-nonsense beer aficionado (who needs wine?), when my friends suggested we check out the Bavarian Beer House on City Road, I jumped at the offer. Although I was excited enough by the prospect of downing golden draughts of premium German ales and lagers, I definitely was not expecting a one-of-a-kind sensory experience that would leave me wondering if I was, in fact, still within the limits of Shoreditch.
