Trade Union Opens it’s Doors in Thomas More Square

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It was the misses’s birthday Wednesday night and I had root canal work booked in first thing Thursday morning. I didn’t want to get hammered. Is there anything worse than having a dentist stick needles in your gums when you have vodka dripping out your pores? Behave yourself tonight Brooker, I told myself. For once in your life show some God damn discipline. Stick to a few high balls and maybe a beer or two will ya for crying out loud. 

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At the bar I grab two cocktails in glass cut tumblers. I ask the waiter what’s in them and I can’t hear a thing he’s saying. Instead of ducking out of the exchange or asking him to speak louder, I just nod in the right places and wait for my chance to break free. “What’s in this?” asks Annie back at the table. “I’ve got no fucking idea.” I say.

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Whatever they were I nailed three of them in fifteen minutes, slam a mojito and finish a Martini Espresso. Now the part of the night I hate the most. Taking pictures. Of course I still haven’t figured out how to use the now not so new camera and with every shot I take I feel like I’m getting progressively worse. Photography is a skill with multiple facets. For one you need to be charming and discreet. Sticking a lens in someones grill as they’re tucking into a pizza, or asking for a hot pool of brunettes to look my way and cheer the fuck up, is one skill.

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The next is learning the technology. How to adapt to the light, adjust the shutter speed, control the aperture – all these things just to get some picture of a guy on the decks. I don’t get why everything comes out dark, or blurred, everything blurred all the damn time. It’ all seems so painfully unnecessary and I yearn to be propelled 50 years into the future when we are all taking pictures via an electronical orbital implant.

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On the last picture I feel like launching the camera in the canal and calling it a night. Bless my Annie she has already given me hours of photography tutoring. Its her birthday and she hasn’t eaten a thing because we missed the free pizza.

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I grab some goody bags, say goodbye to the nice PR ladies (refrain from asking them if the Trade Union logo reminds them of a dudes genitalia) and share a bottle of wine over a curry somewhere in Thomas More Square. The next day I’m having root canal work done and my head feels like its been chopped by a melon farmer.

A quick thanks to Kapranos PR for inviting me, Maua London for giving my girlfriend some roses, to Vagabond for the coffee I found in my goody bag and Drakes of London for the moisturising samples.


From the Press Release

TRADE UNION is an innovative, experiential blended concept. TRADE UNION is a completely new collaboration of some of London’s most exciting lifestyle brands; speciality coffeehouse, Vagabond, male grooming brand, Drakes of London and florist, Maua London. Created by Adam Marshall, founder of Grand Union Bars, TRADE UNION is introducing London to a new kind of lifestyle venue, and his choice of Historic Wapping is a fitting backdrop for the union of three of the world’s oldest trades; coffee, grooming & flowers.

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