London Recap 🖤

London has a way of staying with you. It doesn’t just impress you—it soaks into you. The streets, the fog, the fashion, the people, the hum of the Underground—it all becomes a mood. And now that I’m back, with my camera roll full, a few receipts still in my coat pocket, and my heart somewhere between Soho and Shoreditch, I figured it was time to sit down and reflect. So, here it is—my London recap. 🖤

Let’s start at the beginning: arriving at Heathrow, bleary-eyed but buzzing. There’s a very specific energy that hits the second you step into London air. It’s cool, a bit damp, sometimes grey—but alive. The city greets you like an old friend who’s way cooler than you but never brags about it. I grabbed a coffee (oat flat white, obviously) and headed straight to the hotel in Fitzrovia, my home base for the next few days.

Day One: Checked in, dropped bags, and hit the pavement. I didn’t have an itinerary, just vibes. London is best explored that way—no rigid plan, just a good coat, comfortable shoes, and curiosity. I walked from Oxford Street down to Soho, weaving through hidden alleys and stopping for little things: a bookshop that smelled like stories, a bakery that pulled me in with its pistachio croissants, and a record store that played Arctic Monkeys on vinyl. It was raining lightly, but I didn’t even notice. That’s the thing about London—you romanticize even the drizzle.

Fashion moments? Too many. Londoners dress like they’re headed to a shoot, even when they’re just grabbing groceries. Effortless layers, chunky boots, vintage finds mixed with high fashion pieces. I lived in my trench coat, oversized scarf, and ankle boots. And don’t even get me started on the outerwear game there—it’s elite.

That night, dinner in Notting Hill. Candlelight, pasta, and a red wine that hit just right. I sat by the window, watching the reflections of headlights on wet pavement. The kind of dinner that makes you forget to check your phone. Just good food, good conversation, and the feeling of being exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Day Two: Museum day. I started with the Tate Modern—because art, but also because that view from the Blavatnik Building rooftop? Unreal. Walked through rooms full of emotion, color, and protest, then headed across the Millennium Bridge toward St. Paul’s. London really knows how to blend history with modern life. Every corner has a story. Every brick feels intentional.

Afternoon tea at Sketch? A whole experience. The pink room, the velvet chairs, the eggshell bathrooms—it was like stepping into a dream curated by Wes Anderson. Tiny sandwiches, scones with clotted cream, and desserts that were almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

That evening, I wandered through Covent Garden, found a jazz band playing outside, and stayed to listen. People gathered, someone started dancing, a little girl clapped along in rhythm. It was one of those pure, heartwarming London moments that sneak up on you.

Day Three: Camden Market in the morning. Vintage shops, food stalls, and street style that deserved its own runway. I grabbed a chai latte and just watched the world go by. Every person there seemed like they were the main character of their own indie film.

Then came my absolute favorite: a solo afternoon in Shoreditch. I hit the galleries, snapped pics of every mural and street art I passed, and picked up a handmade ring from a small local studio. There’s a rawness to Shoreditch that I love—creative, gritty, bold. Like the city dares you to be more you.

Dinner was late, at a hidden spot in Hackney recommended by a friend. No sign, just a red door and candlelight. The kind of place that only locals know about. I had the best gnocchi of my life, followed by a pear and almond tart that I’m still dreaming about. The server asked me how my day was, and when I told her it had been magical, she smiled and said, “That’s what London does.”

Final Day: Woke up early, walked along the South Bank just as the city was waking up. The Thames was still, almost glass-like. The London Eye stood in quiet elegance, and there was a kind of calm that only comes just before the rush. I stopped at a bench, sipped my coffee, and just breathed. No music. No scrolling. Just the sound of the river, footsteps, and a city that feels both massive and intimate at the same time.

Before heading to the airport, I did one last stop at Liberty London. I didn’t need anything—I just wanted to be there. The creaky wood floors, the floral prints, the feeling of timeless elegance—it’s one of my favorite spots in the world. I left with a candle, a notebook, and a tiny gold pin that says “dreamer.” Seemed fitting.

So, what did London give me?

A reset. A reminder. A romantic, artistic, stylish escape from routine. It gave me inspiration in the form of people, buildings, rainy skies, and spontaneous moments. It reminded me of the beauty of walking without a destination, of saying yes to things you weren’t planning, and of letting yourself feel everything—softly, deeply, completely.

I came back with sore feet, a full heart, and about a hundred photos of doors and cloudy skies. And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing.

So here’s to London—the city of black cabs, bold fashion, endless layers, and quiet magic. Until next time… 🖤