"A dapper young man with oversized sunglasses, waistcoat and trilby"

Here's the deal. I've been stockpiling my experiences and putting off my blog updates. Well, now is the time to jump back in and just do the thing. (As promised, no "numbered" lists included...)

I think that London knows that I'm here. Last week, I attended London Fashion Week on a whim and I realized that people want to take your picture. Well I wasn't about to turn down those kinds of opportunities, so I rallied the troops (aka my two adored flatmates), wore a cumber-bun, put my best foot forward and trekked down to fashion week for another go. I think I was probably photographed over twenty times that day, as well as interviewed for the GQ holiday issue and another international men's magazine. Score one for the home team!

The next day I travelled to school to take care of business and, wouldn't you know, a tall , gorgeous blonde girl with a camera chased me down. She asked if I had a minute, to which I replied, "Abso-freakin-lutely!" She was from a store called River Island and she was scouting new styles for their spring line for next year. Of course this was the day that the American ironically was dressed like Gene Kelly complete with fedora, wing tips and high-waist trousers. Score two for old U.S. of A.!

THEN, just two days ago, my flatmate jokingly gave me an article on 'man'tyhose to fill my morning commute. After my first class — which included going over the answers to 212 ridiculously hard fashion questions (Can Google revoke your searching privileges after nine straight hours?), confirming that my course director was the bomb and meeting the most attractive Danish girl I have ever laid eyes on — I began the short jaunt back to the tube station. I noticed a camera crew and a man wearing mantyhose outside of Selfridges (a really upscale London department store). The rest is well-documented, Internet history. Make sure you check out the article quote, article picture and video commentary. Cha-Ching, score three!

BTW, they left out the part when I said that I PERSONALLY would never wear them, but that I was open to new emerging styles.

OH! The Squeezy Brown Sauce report:

My British flatmate gave me the low down. It is more commonly referred to as "HP sauce" and it is the exact equivalent of American A-1 Sauce. Same great taste, stupid English name.

Speaking of food... Mom, get that care package ready because I have some very curious foreign friends and a void in my life where Velveeta once resided. Things that they don't have here include: Cheese Whiz, Ranch dressing, Snickers, Pringles that come in regular flavors (unlike onion and leek), soft bread, yellow mustard, marshmallow fluff and the aforementioned orange ambrosia. To them, American junk food sounds more revolting than another year of Bush in office, but they have a secret weapon that redeems their culture... Marmite!

Marmite: a thick, dark-brown, savory spread made from a concentrated yeast sludge, a byproduct of beer brewing.

MmmmMMMMmmmmmMMMmmmMmm... Although it appears to be the bastard child of molasses and beef boullion, it is actually pretty tasty when spread VERY thinly on buttered toast — which, if you know me at all, is my favorite food group. :)

Ok "spreadable" butter, I've got a bone to pick with you. To the Brits, butter is magically changed to spreadable status by putting stick butter in a small tub. I think people are starting to look at me funny when I microwave my margarine before acquiring carpal tunnel whilst buttering my bread.

One last topic and I will release you from this seemingly endless novel of British wanderings.

Dear London Tube,

You are the love of my life and you make my feel oh so sustainable when I ride you every morning. Getting up is easy when I know that you are near. I would however like it if you removed the stench of sweaty Asians from the Central Line station at Oxford Circus. It's crowded enough with idiots trying to shove an entire bicycle into an already packed car. Thank you and looking forward our next rendezvous.

Yours Truly,

Anthony C. Hagan