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By Roz.

Camberwell is abuzz at the moment.  The two proposals for revitalising Burgess Park have just been released.  The Grove is going to be taken over (hurrah) at the end of October and this seems to be causing much consternation (from local pub owners) and interest (from the drinkers!).  The fabulous collective Swing Patrol are bringing their very gay-friendly swing dancing to the Sun and Doves on Saturday 24th October – kick-off at 7.30.  It’s free, and if it’s popular it will continue as a regular slot, so do come.  Pink Screen Sundays are continuing with some very interesting films coming up (The World Unseen is on tomorrow, with Breakfast on Pluto the week after and All About Eve on the last Sunday of the month).  The Ritzy (which of course isn’t Camberwell, but I’m not going to hold that against it) has a revitalised upstairs space with regular performances, as well as a new café downstairs.  I was at the launch night party a while back which was fun, and almost made me forget that in terms of décor the upstairs really did bear a striking resemblance to its previous incarnation.  Meanwhile Bar Story (also not Camberwell) now has bizarre new closing times (with all the lights being switched on at 10 last night, just as I was settling into my fourth mohito.  

But all these excitements haven’t generated quite the fever that they usually would for Layla and me.  This is because recently we’ve been wailing “if only” rather a lot.  If only we hadn’t gone to our friends’ civil partnership a while ago, and if only I hadn’t fallen in love with the elegant trouser suit which one of the brides wore.  If only I hadn’t asked a friend of a friend to make an outfit for me for our wedding.  If only said friend of a friend hadn’t agreed, then (a few months later) pulled out, then been bullied back into making me an outfit and then pulled out again.  If only the friend he then passed me onto hadn’t then been offered lots of work for London Fashion Week and also changed her mind.  And even more crucially, if only the person she then passed me onto hadn’t made me an outfit that magically turned me into a doppleganger for (a fat) Aladdin.

But the final “if only” is the most painful of all: why did I look for a solution outside Camberwell?  With the glorious Odie and Amanda shop, all other options are superfluous.  Following two jolly visits to the shop this week, I now have a number of glorious additions to my wardrobe, including the most fabulous dress I’ve ever worn. Best of all, I’ve tried on a trouser suit that, when it’s made in the beautiful Versace material that they’ve found, will be perfect for our wedding (which is in 3 weeks time).  If you’ve forgotten the shop is there – or haven’t been – tarry no longer.  It’s no wonder Camberwell is abuzz: it has it all*. 

 

Note to readers: any hyperbole which careful readers may detect is justified because of my relief in having, finally, got a wedding outfit solution.