I would imagine that is what Tattoo would have said for some of the visitors, had Mr. Rourke not lived on an island.
Railbookers booked me into a First Class compartment on the Thalys train (bless them), and did you know they serve lunch?
Had I known this, I would not have indulged in the enormous breakfast at the Paris cafe an hour prior. No matter, we're in Belgium now, and I still have room for chocolate.
Where: Frederic Blondeel (Brussels Fish Market - 24 Quai aux Briques)
And I just liked the way this building looked.
I have to admit, Brussels was not my favorite city. While the chocolate people were very nice, everyone else seemed grumpy about something. Possibly the political division of the country, according to a very long New Yorker article my dad made me read before the trip. I hate politics. Let's go shopping.
What: Vintage - and not just the "vintage" from 1996 that all those street-fashionistas claim when describing their outfits. Come on - I'm sure the tag is still in the back of your frock, just fess up. There's nothing wrong with shopping at Express.
Where: Gabriele (27 Rue de Chartreux) - SERIOUS vintage. If I did costumes for films that take place in the '20s - '60s, I would come here. Loads of hats, handbags, an impressive leather trenchcoat collection, and fancy, frilly things. Gabriele is also terribly sweet - go shop at her store.
What: Marni - and it combines my three favorite things in clothing: polka-dots, ruffles and pockets. It was a trifecta of happiness.
Where: Les Enfants d'Eduoard (175 avenue Louise) - gorgeous 2-story consignment shop. I was still in story-1 dressing room, dress over head, at 6:25pm when they started turning the lights off. "Wait! I thought you closed at 7!" Sadly, no. 6:30PM on Saturdays. "But...aren't the shoes upstairs?" I wasn't quite wailing, but you get the idea. Heavy sigh.
Oh well, off to Bruges tomorrow...