au revoir, reality

As I look back on the last four days, the absurdity of the events hits me like a load of bricks.  Allow me to explain myself…

Let’s start with Thursday.  Thursday was the Cinderella of all weekdays.  Thursday had an early wake-up call to take care of some housekeeping details.  Thursday survived on bread and water, in a sad, sad attempt at being frugal.  Then Thursday’s fairy godmother arrived just in the nick of time in the form of a little black dress from Madewell (with POCKETS), black tights, and suede wedge booties, and whisked Thursday away to the ball.  But not just any ball…  The ball.  The one that bears the oh so humble title of London Fashion Week. 

Since I’m still on a Fashion Week high, humor me for just a moment.  Let’s pretend I’m some top-dog fashion journalist from Elle or Vogue or what have you (pick your poison), and I’m here to give you the super-exclusive scoop from Fashion Week, straight from the Miranda Priestlys of the world.  Okay?  Okay.  Ahem.

Halfway through September we find ourselves making the switch from Spring/Summer into Autumn/Winter, trading flip-flops and suntans for leather boots and rosy cheeks.  This season there are a few trends on the horizon that are worth checking out: sweet pinks, nature-inspired prints in earthy tones, brightly colored geometric prints, and Victorian-inspired lace.  Now remember: true personal style comes from choosing the pieces and trends that work for you and fit your unique style from what the fashion deities present to the masses and incorporating them into your day-to-day.

So with that in mind, the two trends that caught my eye on Thursday were christened “Pretty in Pink” and “Victoriana.”  Before you shy away from this bright and girlish hue, try to give pink a bit more credit than she is normally awarded.  Pink is more versatile than you think (rhyme not intended).  She might take on a more light and playful form in blush, a more deep and sophisticated rose, or anything in between.  While the models donned pink from head to toe, this looked rather ridiculous if you ask me.  I presume I’m not the only one to prefer pink in smaller doses, like a bold pink lip or a blush pink collared top.  Or a bright pink lightweight sweater, dark wash skinnies, tall brown leather riding boots, and a sparkly statement necklace.  But that’s just me today.  The “Victoriana” trend also piqued my interest.  A chic and polished monochromatic look, Victoriana gets her depth from the refined neutral color palette and flirts with girly lace and ruffled detailing for a bit of added flair.  It’s timeless and elegant, but can still take a more scaled back air when paired with denim.  So the next time you find yourself perusing the heavenly realms of fashion retail, use the free hand that’s not holding your Pumpkin Spice Latte to snatch up a few of these new runway hits.

Wasn’t that fun? 

After a late night dinner at a pub near London Bridge, my girlfriends and I caught the next bus home to Kensington and slept like babies, weary from a long week of school.  It was a pretty low-key weekend of some much-needed R&R.  We watched a few movies, ordered takeout, and kicked back like any exhausted college student.

HA just kidding we hopped on a train to Paris for the weekend.  Oh, semester abroad, you have my undivided attention.

Friday afternoon I frantically loaded up my extremely large and in charge backpack (naturally I was running just a tad behind schedule) and headed to King’s Cross / St. Pancras station for my first ever train ride.  Apparently the rest of the world has already been on a train like a million times so the experience has lost its luster.  Sad.  Blessed is she who was raised on minivan road-trips for she will be impressed by train rides. 

Just a wee bit excited...

I digress. 

We arrived in Paris around sunset, dropped our bags at our hotel, and took the Metro over to the Seine River for a boat tour.  Now about the Metro… While taking the Tube in London makes me feel posh and cultured, taking the Metro in Paris makes me feel like I’m entering the Twilight Zone.  It twists and turns and whines and you literally feel like the train will lift off the tracks.  It’s a miracle I survived to blog about it.

Once we climbed the steps out of the Underground, there lay the dazzling City of Lights.  At night, Paris is lit like a glorious Christmas tree and its sprawling streets are lined with looming romantic style architecture.  On the boat, we caught our first glimpse of the illustrious Eiffel Tower and watched it glitter away on cue at ten o’clock sharp.  Breathtaking.  If you’d like to see it for yourself, I have approximately 47 shots coming from every angle.  And video footage.  Go big or go home. 

Now nothing says “Paris” like a Nutella-filled crêpe prepared right before your eyes by a street vendor.  Ah.  Heavenly.  It was the perfect end to our first night in the city, and a well-deserved treat after a long day of travel.  

Saturday morning we resurrected our sleepy bodies from our cozy hotel beds for a bus tour of the city.  We saw a wide variety of monuments, buildings, and shops.  We got a taste of home as we passed by the original model of the Statue of Liberty, which resides in the center of a lovely Parisian park as a tribute to its French designer.  We marveled at luxury retailers, like Hermes, Longchamp, Louis Vuitton, and the original Cartier.  (Later we returned to walk through these famed shops, only to mourn the prices that were outlandish even before the damage of the dreaded exchange rate.)  We passed by locations where many famous people lived, worked, and died: the site of Napoleon’s burial, the Ritz where Coco Chanel spent her last days, and even the office of Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau.  (To my dad who raised our family on the film series starring this outrageously funny character: merci beaucoup.)

After the bus, we spent about an hour trailing through the Musée du Louvre, eyeing world-renowned sculptures, paintings, jewels, and the like.  I especially loved The Wedding Feast at Cana, a depiction of Christ’s first miracle and also the largest painting in the museum, and of course, everyone’s favorite leading lady, Mona.  (I’m convinced she is the inspiration behind Tyra Banks’ “smile with the eyes” mantra for her Top Models.)  I am in absolute awe of the remarkable talent housed in that fantastic place.  It reminded me of what a beautiful thing it is that each and every one of us has a unique and incredible talent to offer, whether we’ve discovered that talent yet or whether it is still waiting for us, buried under an X on a map.  Once we find that sweet spot, that place where passion marries ability, we find magic.

I've grown a few inches.  You could say I've been eating my Wheaties.

Even the ceilings are masterpieces...

After a morning of soaking in the Parisian atmosphere, lunch and caffeine were in rather high demand.  We found rejuvenation at a charming café then headed out for some shopping.  The streets were drenched in sunlight, casting a radiant glow on the stunning window displays.  Nothing, however, could beat the glow on each of our faces following the next few moments.  Our group of six American girls stepped into Michael Kors to explore the shelves of flawless handbags, wallets, and watches that we all adore.  As we chatted with the friendly employees, one of them nonchalantly tossed into the conversation, “Oh and the real Michael Kors is upstairs.”  As if it were a mere afterthought.  As if it wasn’t the most jaw-dropping news we had heard all day.  Sure enough, a few moments later, THE Michael Kors came down the stairs, dressed in a military style jacket with jeans and dark aviator shades.  He looked cooler than ever.  The shop-girls urged us to go meet him.  Well you don’t need to tell me twice… I walked straight up to him, flashed my most winning smile, and said hello to one of New York City’s finest fashion designers.  Mr. Kors was friendly and laidback, asking each of us where we were from, seemingly happy to run into a group of fans from home.  We even got a picture.  Ah.  I was absolutely star-struck.  Running into a famous fashion designer in his own store in Paris?  What sweet serendipity.

We finished off the day with a sprint back to the Eiffel Tower to catch the sunset (unwanted but necessary exercise since the French seem to have only two words in their culinary vocabulary: bread and cheese).  Oh that view.  It couldn’t have been more worth the effort.  We spent hours laughing and chattering beneath the Parisian monument, embracing our American girl status and taking more photos than is ever necessary, and making a point to just pause and be as la Tour glittered away above our smiling faces.

As our jam-packed weekend was coming to a close, we hit the streets again Sunday morning to take full advantage of the last eight hours in Paris.  First stop of the day was Notre-Dame, and we had the opportunity to walk through it during a church service.  It was inspiring to see a place that I’ve always associated with people who lived hundreds of years ago still being used today for the same purpose.  The enormity and intricacy of the architecture and the spectacular artwork blew me away.  On a lighter note, the cathedral totally brought me back to an old cartoon that my kindergarten self was obsessed with, Gargoyles.  Long live the nineties and long live my strangeness.

Notre-Dame

Next on the agenda was to visit the Lover’s Bridge.  This bridge across the Seine River displays a romantic tradition where couples attach a padlock to the bridge to symbolize their undying love for one another.  The keys are tossed into the river, never to be seen again, while the love between the two lasts forever.  Not wanting to miss out on the tradition, I made a lock for my parents, the dynamic duo that enriches my life each day.  Mom and Dad, I aspire to have a love like yours someday.  Your sacrificial love means more to us kids than you’ll ever know.

Last but not least on our own whirlwind Tour de France was the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Élysées.  The Arc de Triomphe is a tribute to those who fought in the French Revolution, and it stands in solitude in the center of the Place Charles de Gaulle.  Extending eastbound from the monument runs the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, a world famous Parisian street known for its cinemas, cafés, high-end shopping, and the manicured horse-chestnut trees that line either side of the avenue.  It’s no secret: this lovely locale is known as “the most beautiful avenue in the world,” or as the French say, la plus belle avenue du monde.  Since we already felt we were lost in a dream, we chose Häagen-Dazs as the perfect last meal in Paris.  I do believe that when Audrey Hepburn said, “Paris is always a good idea,” she was referring to indulgent French desserts just as much as the magical city itself.  Because why not eat ice cream and crêpes for dinner?

And with that we boarded the train and returned home to reality.  Or whatever you would call this.  My voice is gone, my feet are bruised, and I am completely spent after a weekend packed to the gills with activity.  But my eyes have witnessed the magic of new places and glamorous experiences, and my heart is full.  Au revoir, Paris.  Until we meet again.

that one bit I forgot about

School.

Now it’s time for the part of the show where Katie remembers she’s a student and students must go to school.  Even when said student is vagabonding throughout Europe for a term.

Monday morning rolled around in that snarky, ha-ha-you-forgot-I-existed sort of way it always does and jolted me from my sleep with everyone’s favorite iPhone hit, Marimba.  It was time to get reacquainted with things that have been zipped away in a backpack for a spell.  Trivial things like college-ruled paper and No. 2 pencils.  Things that I have happily neglected for the past, oh, 107 days or so. 

The day began like any other, with a croissant and yogurt (the breakfast of champions) in the caf in Atlantic House basement (the place where champions go to dine).  In true European form, showers were skipped and it was dry shampoo to the rescue.  (Yes, British Kath is eco-friendly and conserves water.  Save the whales.)  I slapped on my new Clinique lipstick (because the color is called intense and obviously I mean business) and pulled on my Hunters.  Quick pause for the obligatory first day of school picture message to mom.  And we’re ready.

My first class was Intermediate Microeconomics.  I should’ve known something was amiss when the young, twenty-something guy who walked in behind us, asking if this was in fact Microeconomics, turned out to be the professor.  Not what you want.  Little Einstein skipped the syllabus and dove right in to the first day of the curriculum.  With my trusty turquoise Sharpie pen clenched tightly, I kicked out a solid four pages of notes.  That’s four pages front and back, mind you.  Between furiously copying down the slides and attempting to interpret his thick German accent, I did not retain one ounce of knowledge on the subject of microeconomics.  Go team.  Conclusion: This man talks at the speed of an auctioneer and is, perhaps, too smart for his own good.  In other news, you need a significant understanding of calculus to pass this class, which was unbeknownst to me at the time of registration.  The last time I took calculus was in high school three years ago, and even then we spent more class time doing yoga and playing Heads Up 7-Up than deriving things.  Pray for me.

Class number two was as inspiring and hilarious as class number one was terrifying.  Honestly, what’s not to love about a course on leadership taught by a Scottish man who promised an A right off the bat?  Not only is this guy an absolute hoot and a half, I actually feel like I’m going to learn some valuable life lessons this semester.  We spent the whole first class talking about our own personal heroes and what makes a great leader.  Perhaps that discussion sounds a bit elementary for an upper-level university course.  In that case, my answer was just as elementary.  I chimed in saying my dad is my personal hero, because he never quits, never fails to make me laugh, and never forgets to tell me he loves me.  (Awww.)  Regardless of its simplicity, I walked out of class feeling grateful for the great leaders that have impacted my life and encouraged to follow in their footsteps.  Appreciative and motivated—two extremely rare first day of school sentiments, am I right?

After a break for lunch at Whole Foods (a delicious and nutritious reprieve from my strict diet of croissants and only croissants), it was on to the one class I had been waiting for: FASHION MARKETING AND MERCHANDISING.  And was it as absolutely marvelous as I had hoped it might be?  You bet your Jimmy Choo suede booties it was.  Within the first few minutes of introduction, it was clear: my prof is the real deal.  Her résumé boasts all kinds of glamorous fashion-related jobs, including work as a buyer for Jaeger (a British luxury clothing retailer), as a marketing consultant for Harrods and London Fashion Week, and as the Head of Marketing for the famed shoe brand, Hunter.  She, ladies and gentlemen, is the woman who transformed the Hunter rain boots that were once just a practical work boot into a multinational fashion statement.  A fashion statement that I myself was employing in that very classroom at that very moment.  As if I wasn’t already paying attention… 

Know what else just rocks?  At the beginning of class, Abby and I were just casually chattering away with her about how she couldn’t figure out her new iPhone (people who are friendly and candid from the get-go are winners in my book) when somehow Pinterest came into the conversation.  (Typical.  When does Pinterest not come up in a conversation of mine?)  Now, get this: she had never heard of it.  She had not yet been introduced to the highly creative, intuitive, dare I say productive world of pinning.  That poor woman…  Well, as they say, one good turn deserves another, and that, folks, is how I introduced the woman who made Hunter boots famous to Pinterest.  We had her logged into the app and integrating Pinterest into the curriculum before we walked out the door in her blessed boots.  Oh and our homework was to comparatively analyze the merchandising methods of two different clothing stores.  You heard right.  My homework was to go shopping.  Snaps for Fashion Marketing.

My last class, Research Methods, was with the same professor who taught Leadership earlier in the day.  By 4:30 in the afternoon when class began, the man was as lively as ever.  This guy is more like the class clown that just so happens to be the highly educated professor.  The earlier class was a pretty even mix of both study abroad and regular Richmond students.  This last one, on the other hand, was all Richmond upperclassmen, except for two: Abby and myself.  We walked in to find every seat taken, except for a lovely pair in the most sought after location: front and center.  Sweet.  Needless to say, we survived the next hour and twenty minutes’ worth of course introduction and overview, complete with loads of good-natured teasing from the professor.  Multiple times throughout class he warned Abby and I (the token American girls) to steer clear of our many European male classmates.  “Wolves in sheep’s clothing, lasses!” 

Our professor wasn’t all pranks and jokes, though.  After class, as everyone was leaving, he introduced Abby and I to some of our classmates, and then pulled us aside to ask us how we’re liking Richmond.  Then he asked the all-important career question: “What do you ladies want to do?”  (If I had a dollar for every time I’m asked that question, I wouldn’t even need a career.)  He then looked each of us right in the eye and with the utmost conviction urged us to take every advantage of being here.  He informed us that we have been sitting in class with royals and billionaires, children and grandchildren of people who are doing incredible things.  He repeated to us that our being here opens up a goldmine of opportunities for our future.  It is to our great benefit to not just live the length of our time in London, but to live the depth of it and seize every opportunity.  My parents gave me similar advice a couple days ago, after I had a minor panic attack over money and planning and fun things like that.  (I know what you’re thinking… “Wait, Katie having a mental breakdown?  That is absurd.  This girl is as emotionally intact as a cucumber.”  We all have our moments, people.) 

Anyways, what my professor and my parents reminded me was Carpe Diem.  Look beyond the worries, realize the possibilities, and start seizing the opportunities like flowers in a field.  And with this schedule of only two days of school a week, it looks to me like I’ve got plenty of time for that.

Here's a peek at what else I was up to this week...

London, you have such a pretty face, you should be on a Christmas card!

Harnessing my inner Hermione Granger at the Harry Potter Walking Tour.

London Eye.

Samers. 

Cheerio, Ben.

Hillsong Church London.  May or may not have cried tears of joy upon arrival.

And we're still gorging ourselves on croissants...

Exploring Notting Hill.  Unfortunately, Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts were not in attendance.

Traveling with tennis players means Wimbledon is a must.

The best travel buddy a girl could ask for.

brilliant

…And on the seventh day, she finally blogged. 

I’m writing from my cozy third-floor dorm room, window opened wide to a cliché rainy morning in London.  This place is utterly and absolutely brilliant.  From the moment I hopped off the plane, I was filled with childlike giddiness.  I felt like Santa must feel on Christmas.  That crowning feeling of here it is, the moment I’ve been waiting for, the culmination of months’ worth of prayers and planning.  Not even the thought of meeting the fashion capital I had loved from afar in an outfit more worn-out than my weary eyes could bring me down.  It was game time. 

After a long day of traveling, we arrived at Heathrow a bit past seven in the morning.  With eyes and smile as wide as ever, I did my absolute best to keep the squeals and skipping to a minimum.  Wouldn’t want to look like a flighty American girl, now would we?  Too late.  After winding through the queue at customs, we were met by two representatives from the program.  We were then whisked away (hauled, really, considering the weight of my luggage) to our new home-away-from-home in vans that drove on the LEFT side of the road.  Which, let me tell you, is a far stranger thing to grasp when it feels like two in the morning.

Ever since then it’s been a blur of exploring, touring, napping, photo-snapping, orienting, meeting new friends, and just soaking it all in.  We live in dorms on the upper level campus at our university, Richmond.  Richmond is a lovely school nestled in the Royal Borough of Kensington.  Yes, you heard right.  I’m living among royalty.  It’s only a matter of time before my inner diva takes flight (*insert Kath pose here*).  Abby and I live in a quaint two-person room on the third floor that overlooks a narrow road lined with white houses and perfectly manicured shrubbery.  The inhabitants of these multimillion-pound homes casually tour about London in humble vehicles made by Ferrari and BMW.  Every morning around ten o’clock, my heart melts a little as a handful of nursery children are led to school in two straight lines, clad in navy and white, walking hand-in-hand.  It’s like the co-ed British version of Madeline, live and in person.  The seven-year-old girl in me wishes I could throw on my navy Schoolboy blazer and hop in line. 

While our neighbors across the street are wealthy families that belong in a J.Crew catalogue, our neighbors across the hall are a bunch of college boys that belong in a frat house.  HA.  It only took a few moments for the realization to set in: Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not at Bethel anymore.  So many aspects of this place are dissimilar to all that is familiar at home in Minnesota, where I attend a small Christian university, live in the suburbs I’ve known all my life, and have full-access to my iPhone whenever and wherever I am.  Being in such a new and different place is thrilling and frightening all at once.  But for a girl who’s not so big on change, I can already sense that being in this fresh environment is going to grow me in ways I had never anticipated and I absolutely love it already.

As you’ve probably gathered by now, this past week has been a week of hustle and bustle, broken up by quick, hard naps.  So instead of giving you a full-fledged play-by-play, for today I’ll just give you the highlight reel: my observations and favourite things thus far.

1. We’ve had two tours so far and my head feels like it might explode with British fun facts.  First was a walking tour of Kensington that took us all around our neighborhood, and second was a bus tour of the greater area of London that took us to Westminster, Buckingham Palace, London Bridge, and the like.  Our Scottish tour guide Sean is a riot.  What this bald man lacks in hair he makes up for in knowledge of London.  He can tell you just about anything you’d want to know about the area, including David Beckham’s favorite pub and where one might spot Will, Kate, and baby George.  And other important and historical tidbits, of course.
2. British children take the cake for best dressed.  We’re talking straight Crewcuts, folks.  Mothers of Kensington, I applaud you.
3. Croissants, particularly those of the chocolate-filled variety, are heaven in pastry form.  I had my first at the Pret a Manger near St. Michael’s Cathedral, and I’ve been dreaming of them ever since.  At any given hour of the day, I can be found pondering the whereabouts of the nearest bakery.  I am forever ruined.
4. The streets of London are a dog-eat-dog world.  Those delightful red buses?  Yeah, they don’t stop.  Neither do the funny-looking taxis.  Put your iPhones away, folks, before “Death by Texting-While-Walking” is scrawled across your gravestone.
5. Riding the tube makes me feel like the coolest girl in town.  I want to squeeze the shoulder of the person next to me and squeal, “WE ARE RIDING THE TUBE FOR GOODNESS SAKE.”  However, that would significantly decrease my self-proclaimed “cool” factor.  Self-control is a virtue.
6. On Wednesday I went for a run in Hyde Park with Abby and two new friends from California and oh my land was it glorious.  The park is filled with ponds, greenery, birds, fountains, dog-walkers, joggers, and precious families on picnics.  All I could do was smile the whole way through.
7. Friday night we hit the River Thames for a boat cruise, dancing the night away against a stunning backdrop of London’s city lights.  The rest of the regular students have begun to arrive at Richmond, so many of them were on the cruise.  We made friends with a sweet and spunky freshman girl from London, Antina.  To our amusement, she told us that she was jealous of our American accents.  “It’s just so cool.  You sound like Mean Girls, but you’re not mean!!"
8. Let it be known that I have not purchased a single item of clothing thus far.  And if you’ve ever encountered Kensington High Street, the sweet refuge of shopaholics just two minutes away, you would agree with me that I deserve a medal.

This place just keeps blowing me away at every turn.  I’m completely smitten.

Yertle the Turtle, ready for takeoff.

Houses in Kensington

Across from Hyde Park

Monument across from Buckingham Palace

Fountain in Hyde Park

 

Buckingham Palace

Piccadilly Circus at night

Outside the theatre, waiting to see The 39 Steps.

 

Necessary first tube ride selfy

Piccadilly Circus

View of London Eye from River Thames

Boat Cruise