The Hoxton Pony

This time it was a rather different evening of cocktails and cupcakes at one of the trendiest establishments in Shoreditch; a rather hard status to achieve in that particular borough! I used to visit Hoxton quite a lot when my sister lived there, temporarily renting a room in an unbelievably cool artist’s warehouse from a friend of a friend. The rent – even reduced – was almost equally as unbelievable. Having not ventured to this part of London in a while, this time I didn’t feel like sinking into the ground with my un-stylishness.

It was pleasant to realise that I feel more confident in my own appearance, because arriving to live in London for the first time during July last year was a bit of a culture shock. I had never inhabited a place so obviously crammed full of people that had more money than me, tourist or otherwise. Also given the fact that the only clothes shop within two miles of where I live now is Dorothy Perkins – there are two!

Still, everyone seems to become breath-takingly beautiful only a short bus journey from the Topshop-free zone, testifying once again to the dazzling mysteries of life in the capital city.

I think I’ve come a long way since that naïve beginning, having held down several CV-worthy jobs, generated an active social life, almost completed an English Literature Masters and also currently preparing for an interview in the arts. Not to mention making the most of everything there is to do here! The Hoxton Pony was actually geographically easy to find, my sister and I both equipped with GoogleMaps on our precious iPhones.

The ‘cocktail tea party’ consisted of four cupcakes on a beautiful cake stand – the kind with the ballerina legs protruding from the top – and a glass infusion jar containing an alcoholic concoction chosen from well-written menu. The china cups were pretty and everything attractively decorated (possibly excepting some wall art that was basically shards of twisted metal from what must have been a huge pile-up), though the barmaid failed to bring us the knife we asked for and there was actually no tea involved. The establishment having seemed potentially awkward and out of our league, it actually encouraged lively conversation whilst providing a comfortable environment in which to relax. The cakes were delicious, apparently made to order, and I personally was a little tipsy from the infusion upon our exit.

The best feature of the Pony was the impeccably friendly and professional service. We were made to feel like honoured guests, despite our Groupon, very much unlike that awful hotel in Bloomsbury mentioned in a previous post (‘The Mercure’ – don’t bother with it!). Perhaps hipsters in central East London are more in tune with thriftiness.

Despite the ups and downs, and perhaps because of them, it’s been an exciting and educational tea tour so far. As the deadline for my dissertation has loomed quicker than I would have ideally preferred, I’m not sure I’ll have time for another tea stop before the last word on Virginia Woolf and the ubiquitous cuppa has to be written, but this will not be the end. This endeavour shall continue even after that last sheaf of paper disappears behind the English Course Desk, filed away to be scrutinised and marked.