It is always very humbling to stand around waiting for a delayed train. Particularly when there is no alternative route you can take. I huff and puff hoping my agitation will be put to good use and make my train arrive on time, as if the driver can sense my anger and go full steam ahead. I scoff at the train timetable, hoping my attitude wills it to change. Then I accept that there’s nothing I can do. It is completely out of my control, and that standing around annoyed won’t change the fact that I find myself, again, on the precipice of being late. Instead, I decide to use this time to put in my gold bow earrings I shoved in my suit trouser pocket as I frantically left the house. Despite taking steps the night before to ensure I didn’t have to rush in the morning, I somehow ended up rushing for last few minutes to get out of the door. Sometimes I question whether I like the thrill of the rush. I know I don’t enjoy being late, and I hate that people think it’s a result of my flagrant disregard and lack of respect for their time. Exploring the reasons for my near chronic lateness however is for another post. I have a watch again now, I’m doing better!
I had to be at Sketch for 12:30. If my train arrived on time, I would get to Oxford Circus with plenty of time to leisurely stroll to Regent Street, near thirty minutes early. I wouldn’t be late due to my trains twelve minute delay, but it meant I was cutting it a little fine. ‘I can’t be late to start my day with Givenchy!’ I thought to myself as I eagerly awaited my trains arrival. It arrived with no further delay, and I sat journeying to Victoria listening to an eight minute voice note from a friend who had gone on a date the night before. Truly perfect commuting material. Once I arrived, I weaved in between slow walking passengers on the platform and power walked (which is practically jogging as I already walk very fast) to the tube station.
I arrived in perfect time, with six whole minutes (!) to spare before the time of the reservation. I took a picture of the outside of the restaurant before going in. It was also a chance to cool down a bit from the panicky rushing. As like anyone with Instagram, I had seen many pictures of Sketch for a few years now. Its largely known for its spaceship-like bathroom which feature giant egg shaped pods that replace basic toilet stalls. I had also seen photos of the gorgeous tearoom decked out with plush velvet that resembles true 1920s decadence and glamour. It meant there was a familiarity upon entering despite never having gone to the restaurant myself. I walked in, slipping my hands through a large dark veil to enter the foyer, and I felt eager with excitement. Time for enjoyment and meeting new people. Immediately you are greeted by a gorgeous amber-like smell that hangs in the air, similar to the smell of walking into someone’s bedroom just after they have sprayed perfume before going out. Later I realised this was because a Diptyque candled burned by the reception desk.
Assuming the party had already arrived early, I gave my coat and massive tote bag to the cloakroom attendant and made my way, with just phone in hand, to the dining area. I immediately regretted not bringing my lip gloss from my coat pocket with me, but hoped the last application I put on when I got off the train would last me throughout the rest of lunch.
The waitresses wore dresses whilst the waiters were in pretty, crisp white shirts. A young woman exuding 1950s charm came to the table and asked which water I’d prefer. I sat in the middle of the large table, waiting for others to arrive. A few minutes later she asked if I was expecting others to join which made me giggle, wondering if it was commonplace for a party of one to book a large table to sit 8. I browsed the menu, gutted I’d missed the breakfast slot because I had already planned to order pancakes. I flipped over to the ‘comfort menu’ and quickly decided on the truffle burger (no surprise there). I read through the tea section meticulously, finally settling on a lavender tea. I messaged my cousin about how gorgeous it was, how luxe, that ‘we HAVE to come here’, snapping photos of the interior and sending them to her.
With my group running a little late, I looked around the restaurant. The only other diners were a group of ladies in their 50s who I assumed were celebrating a birthday and had come from out of town. Perhaps they had lived and met here in their twenties, but now resided across the English countryside, in leafy suburbs on the outskirts of the city and came to spend days out in London as a treat. They all convinced each other to ‘have a glass of bubby’ despite the early hour and praised each other on how young each of them looked. ‘I need a cream to make me look 35’ one roared, to which they all laughed. They all looked fabulous, and it made me think about what I’d be like at that age, surrounded by my friends, championing each other’s defiance against aging as we ate lunch at a three Michelin star restaurant.
Lunch at Sketch and the rest of my day which details remained elusive until the weekend before was all a part of a Givenchy experience day I was awarded through work. I was actually runner up for this prize a few months back which I was none the wiser about, and the person who came before me could no longer attend last minute. This was all news to me after ringing back a co-worker who I had three missed calls from expecting some type of emergency. In the days that followed I got emails from the lovely Givenchy team explaining what I could expect from my London day with Givenchy, as well as details of arranging accommodation. An overnight stay? I had to stop myself from leaping up upon reading. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a whole night to myself outside of my house, probably since I lived in halls at uni. The prospect was entirely exciting.
My chrome nails matched the iridescent décor
I along with four other winners in the company were to have lunch, followed by a brand history seminar by their head of learning and a makeup masterclass taught by their national makeup artist at the LVMH office. My devotion to Givenchy perfumery was further cemented (The Gentlemen range stays in my repertoire of recommendations for male shoppers). I had met some members of the marketing team at a team leader conference a year or so prior and loved the brand’s ethos. My mum adores the L’Interdit line and regularly champions Givenchy herself. They truly foster a great brand relationship with our stores and are always eager to hear input. They also give great staff engagement boxes (I’m still thinking about the bespoke box of chocolates they sent us inspired by the ingredients of their perfume when they launched L’Interdit Rouge Ultime…).
Afterwards, we would check into our hotel before having dinner in Soho at 7pm. It was a booked and busy day. After receiving my itinerary whilst at work, I informed my fellow colleagues to which we all buzzed with excitement. ‘I expect a vlog!’ remarked my friend and co-worker, ‘you have to blog about it,’ said another. We googled the hotel, ‘I was just expecting a Travelodge of sorts but would be happy for a night away either way’ I said, to which my younger colleague laughed, ‘not Travelodge!’.
We were staying at The Dilly, a hotel I have walked passed frequently. I adore piccadilly and find myself there quite often. It was particularly the case over the summer when my cousin worked at a restaurant in Mayfair for a few months. I’d often meet her after work, walking from Green Park station late at night, the calmness of a near empty central London soothing me. One night, we passed The Dilly and wondered what the rooms were like. We thought about their regular clientele and joked with each other, ‘meet me at The Dilly, darling!’ she remarked, exercising her best English, old-money accent. ‘Let’s dillydally at The Dilly’, I replied.
*
My burger was as delicious as I expected, perhaps even more so. As I bit it, bits of tender, pinkish-brown beef fell on to my plate. I sipped my tea and ate skinny fries heavily garnished with parmesan. The Givenchy team were lovely and chatty, as were my fellow colleagues I had not met prior who worked at other stores. Two had flown in from Scotland which made it feel even more fancy. One was from a store in Derby and the other, a fellow Londoner who worked in the Woolwich store. We listened intently as the other three girls described their arduous (and early) journeys. ‘I just got the train to Victoria’ I remarked, ‘I got the Elizabeth line’, said the girl from Woolwich, and we laughed. Each of us lauded over the food, nearly half of us got burgers which we found funny, though two took out the truffle element which I found to be bordering on criminal.
With our bellies full and introductions given, we were off to the LVMH office for the educational section of our Givenchy day. Of course, it was raining, and so we huddled under umbrellas and avoided large puddles (I was in flat slingback shoes which left my heel exposed to the wills of the environment, aka wetness). Back at their office, we learned about the history of Givenchy and what the brand means today, particularly how L’Interdit came to be (thanks to Hubert’s infamous muse, Audrey Hepburn). Their most iconic fashion piece however is of course the Antigona bag. I remember being fifteen, deeply entrenched in the world of fashion blogs and running my own, discovering the classic black bag and falling in love with it. I told my aunt I wanted one, which of course is mad for a fifteen year old, and rightly so, she laughed. ‘When you’re older and working, that’s something you can save up for’ she concluded. Teenagers definitely shouldn’t own bags that cost over a grand.
We got an exclusive look at their latest makeup launch, the Prisme Libre Glow Serum Foundation, which marries both skin serum and light coverage foundation effortlessly. As someone who shies away from foundation, purely through fear of applying it wrong, I was apprehensive to do my own face despite the wonderful teachings of Claire Mulleady, the brand MUA. I expressed my fears, telling her I just use concealer for blemishes and my under eyes. She complimented my skin, saying ‘that makes sense, you don’t need foundation!’, to which I’m sure I blushed. After helping me colour match and with a toolkit of makeup brushes before me I got to work. I was particularly impressed with the lightness of the foundation, and the glowing, dewy look it revealed upon application. She introduced the colour correcting range (in green and peach) they offered, and I fell in love. The coverage is so great you could pretty much just use that as a concealer in and of itself.
Dreamy
Next it was on to eyeshadow, dread ensued. My makeup routine is fairly simple, I’m a brow girl first and foremost, and then I conceal, contour, blush, and apply strip lashes (if it’s that kind of party!). I’ve only recently discovered how great mascara is after writing it off in my teens due to the attitude that my lashes were ‘too short for it to make a difference’, turns out I was wrong. How I dream of rocking a smoky eye or winged eyeliner, particularly because I think my eye shape (almond, dare I say feline if you’d let me…) would suit it. Practice makes perfect as they say, and I remember telling myself at seventeen I would learn to apply eyeliner, but I never followed through. I was late to the makeup party and then I just gave up on mastering the art of eye makeup altogether. I attempted a light smoky eye with their Le 9 De Givenchy Eyeshadow Palette (No.8 and No.12) and with further assistance from Claire. She also curled my lashes, and I was surprised again at the outcome, a result of a lack of faith for my short but thick eyelashes.
The fellow girls all looked lovely. One was a former MUA herself, and it showed, her smoky eye dazzled. We all cooed over their Prisme Libre Blush in shade No.04 and each waited our turn to use it. I finished my look with a gorgeous red lip in my favourite shade of red which I like to describe as burnt. If a rookie like me could get the hang of a full face with their products, anyone could. The packaging of each product boasted stunning craftmanship, something you can always rely on when it comes to Givenchy. They never fail to honour the history of their brand with each product they release.
In our Givenchy faces, the girls and I walked back to The Dilly. As I checked in, my room was upgraded from a double to a King courtesy of lovely Abdul at reception. The idea of being able to stretch out my long limbs across a bed completely unencumbered was a total treat, so much so I practically rushed to the lift. Rihanna was not exaggerating in her song ‘California King Bed’; each side of the bed really is ten thousand miles apart. I filmed a mini room tour and sent it to a few friends and my mum. One friend joked I was getting the ‘Instagram model treatment’.
I was aware I only had a little bit of time to swap my outfit, touch up my hair (some flyway’s persisted due to the rain), pack my handbag and make it downstairs in time for dinner. I swapped my red lip for a new lip favourite of mine, Clinique Almost Lipstick in shade Black Honey as the red regrettably didn’t go with my grey dress. I made sure to take extra selfies before I wiped it off, wishing I noted down the name of the shade. I pulled up my tights, tied the bow on my dress, fastened the strap of my ballerina pump heels around my ankles, doused myself in my dupe of Tom Ford Vanilla Sex as it is my most complimented scent and ironically the cheapest in my collection (find it here, you’re welcome.) and headed for the door.
Lunch vs dinner. Left outfit: mesh top, Zara, square neck black crop, H&M, suit trousers, ASOS, face, Givenchy! Right outfit: pleated bow dress, Reclaimed Vintage.
At The Ivy I met two other members of the Givenchy marketing team for perfume and beauty and ate the best shepherd’s pie I’d ever tasted. Over white wine and rosé we spoke about how other brands approached marketing for their latest launches, and what new flankers left us wanting more. They teased an upcoming perfume launch which left much to the imagination and spoke about the ways they want to further enhance their relationship with us, the sellers. We spoke about which parts of London were the best and why there’s no place like Soho. Inundating them with each of our immense gratitude for the fun day, we parted ways and headed back to the hotel, our heels clacking on the cobbled streets. The girl from Derby told me of London nights out she’d had where instead of booking a hotel, her and her friends would stay out until the first train back home. We laughed and I praised her willpower. The two girls from Scotland retired to their rooms as they had an early flight back whilst us three decided to get cocktails at the hotel bar. Steeply priced but just as strong, we indulged. With service charge, one drink cost us £20. When in Rome and all. We gossiped about work before retreating to our rooms at 11pm.
I facetimed my friend, apparently giggling a little too loudly because I received an aggressive banging on my hotel wall. I could be making much more noise I thought, it’s only 11:30 and you’re in central London! In fairness to them, my laugh can be quite piercing. I made a peppermint tea, took some pictures on my film camera of me in my dress, and got ready for bed. I then dived onto the king bed, oh how the other half live! I switched off the lights lamp by lamp, opened my curtains a tad as I like to be woken up by natural light in the morning, and turned on the tv. I settled on a rerun of Naked Attraction to make me sleepy. Nestled in the large white duvet for just some minutes, I turned off the tv and instantly fell asleep.
Awaking to my alarm (I was not to miss the breakfast buffet), I stretched out my legs and then my arms. Hugging one of the pillows to my side I contemplated going back to sleep, my head sinking further into the soft pillow. Another alarm rang and I thought it best to get out now before its too late. The room was still fairly dark due to the grey overcast sky. I hoped no one could see into my room window from the building beside me, switched on the kettle, and walked into the bathroom.
Dressed and ready for the day, I headed to the Terrace for breakfast. I wore a black sheer blouse with a high neck and bows on the cuffs, a grey skirt with a Miu Miu-esque charm and exposed pockets at the hem, black tights, and my pointed buckle slingbacks. My hair was slicked back in a ponytail and my face naked. I caught up with the girls over a cheesy omelette, sausages, a pain au chocolat, and pancakes covered in fresh berries and maple syrup courtesy of the pancake machine. We revelled in how great our day was yesterday and asked when each of us was working next, all agreeing we were taking some pastries back to our hotel room once we finished eating. They both smelled of L’Interdit. Our table overlooked the antique streets of piccadilly being drizzled by unrelenting rain. Work can be so fun sometimes, I thought to myself.
Queencoc0 Talks 
Leave a comment