Last Friday I braved the distinctly un-British Mediterranean heat and headed up to the Smoke to spend a day in the company of V&A treasures. Get comfortable, it was a long day so this is a long post!
The morning passed treading well-worn (but somehow always fresh) paths through the galleries and halls of the main building. Via 13th century arches, Florentine gothic balconies and Japan kimonos, somehow I always end up in the theatre section which in the past has been something of a retreat for me. I switch off in there as you would in the real theatre, marvelling at the concepts and the mechanisms put into place to create the fantasy. This time around I spent some time gawping at the iconic original costumes worn by Adam Ant, Mick Jagger and Jimmy Page (Page: skinny, Goddard: muscly thighs), and just around the corner like a curator’s version of Stella Street, was Kylie’s touring dressing room, all shiny and sheepskinny and lipstick scrawled mirror messages.
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