MY FAVOURITE!
This cocktail photo has been my lock screen ever since I took it—a Gimlet, my all-time favorite cocktail: sour, strong, simple, elegant. I snapped this at a speakeasy bar called Tides in Beijing (29 August 2024, 23:45 AM). I stayed just before the bartender closed up. A few hours later, I boarded a morning flight back to the Netherlands, barely sober. Recipe(classic): gin, lime juice, sugar. Both the bar and the drink—highly recommended.
Strangely, nights like this—when I was alone, met random people at the bar, and chatted with the bartender—stick in my head. I vividly remember all the details: where I was sitting, what I was wearing, all the mundane stuff. But for some reason, they feel larger than life. Maybe the Polaroid taken by one of the girls sitting next to me helped keep everything in place. I just noticed I’d already finished the drink in the picture. She was an ESFP, a photographer, but I’ve forgotten her name. She and her extroverted friends surrounded me; I was in the middle, already a bit tipsy when they started the conversation.
Recollection brings me ease, and a sense of comfortable alienation. I’ve convinced myself this is the healthy side effect of alcoholic indulgence. I don’t know what this information means—or if it matters when you’re scrolling down this page. I also don’t know, or wasn’t fully aware, when I was making this print. I didn’t expect to be attached to an image for almost a year. I don’t miss home. Maybe the city a bit. But I miss that one night—gone in time, in timelessness.
One-off piece (I will not make copies. This is and will be the one and only piece in the world, so yes—it’s priced accordingly). Fits XS to M.
Tag me & send me pics @mansheesleathergloves_ (PLEASE let me know if you bought this baby)
MY FAVOURITE!
This cocktail photo has been my lock screen ever since I took it—a Gimlet, my all-time favorite cocktail: sour, strong, simple, elegant. I snapped this at a speakeasy bar called Tides in Beijing (29 August 2024, 23:45 AM). I stayed just before the bartender closed up. A few hours later, I boarded a morning flight back to the Netherlands, barely sober. Recipe(classic): gin, lime juice, sugar. Both the bar and the drink—highly recommended.
Strangely, nights like this—when I was alone, met random people at the bar, and chatted with the bartender—stick in my head. I vividly remember all the details: where I was sitting, what I was wearing, all the mundane stuff. But for some reason, they feel larger than life. Maybe the Polaroid taken by one of the girls sitting next to me helped keep everything in place. I just noticed I’d already finished the drink in the picture. She was an ESFP, a photographer, but I’ve forgotten her name. She and her extroverted friends surrounded me; I was in the middle, already a bit tipsy when they started the conversation.
Recollection brings me ease, and a sense of comfortable alienation. I’ve convinced myself this is the healthy side effect of alcoholic indulgence. I don’t know what this information means—or if it matters when you’re scrolling down this page. I also don’t know, or wasn’t fully aware, when I was making this print. I didn’t expect to be attached to an image for almost a year. I don’t miss home. Maybe the city a bit. But I miss that one night—gone in time, in timelessness.
One-off piece (I will not make copies. This is and will be the one and only piece in the world, so yes—it’s priced accordingly). Fits XS to M.
Tag me & send me pics @mansheesleathergloves_ (PLEASE let me know if you bought this baby)
