Have a jar

Last night was the Nellist's leaving party. She's off to the land where designer labels aren't blasphemy, joining the Marie Claire fashion department. Anyway. In true Look fash dept style we had a right knees up mother brown to send her off. Fi recommended the bar, Casita, in East London (yes, yet again East ffs). It was the size of a shoe box but did have some charm to it and the unusual choice


of jars instead of wine glasses. Apparently this was to save space, as opposed to being east London cool (whatevs). I kind of got used to it but it was rather thick to get your lips around. In west London we use jars for more traditional pursuits like storing jam. There was no food whatsoever apart from some nuts Andrews had to buy from the pub across the road. V high turnout from the usual suspects plus some extras and one gate crasher who was abused (bet he didn't reckon on that when he ignored the 'closed for a private party' sign. Nob). All in all an excellent eve and testament to the joy of Nellist. We love you! And we'll miss you. ZA



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