Eating, Drinking, Dancing in Camberwell (with supermodels)

Last night I was supposed to meet up with my friends Nicole and Tom in Notting Hill.   When those plans fell through, Giles decided to take me out to the local scene in his neighborhood of Camberwell, a borough south of the river.  I was a bit disappointed at first as I was looking forward to not only seeing these friends but having a “north of the river” experience.   Interestingly enough, the river Thames divides people and their loyalties.  You’re either North or South.  People stay on their side of the river, rarely moving  or even venturing out purposefully to the other side, with the exception of work.   As I understand it, there’s no real explanation, other than they’re loyal to the side of the river they first settled.  But I digress…

We met up with one of his mates Ricky for some fish and chips at the Flying Fish.  The haddock and chips I must say were fantastic.  We washed it all down with a bottle of cab and a liter of beer in BYOB fashion.  By the time we were done, it was already close to 10pm and we were pretty content to call it a night and park it on the couch and watch some tube.  But the Funky Monkey next door was calling us for some reason and we decided to drop in for a drink.

Funky indeed, the DJ was spinning some old R&B and motown grooves mixed with some more current tunes.  While the music often defines the clientele, you couldn’t really peg this place for any particular age group or audience like you might in San Francisco (Marina, Pac Heights, Mission, Haight, Castro etc).  It was definitely a mixed crowd.   By 11pm they had the bar floors cleared of tables and the dancing began.   Two guys who knew the word to every song started breaking it down to start things off.  A clean cut middle aged white man dancing hard, a dude with dreadlocks slow groovin’, a busty young blond cruising the bar, a handsome looking mixed couple tapping to the beat in the corner table, the cute but tough black haired bartender with the lower lip piercing, and a group of women, non-distinct, save for two that were curiously tall and thin, sipping cosmos and getting into the action to give you a taste.  Like I said, funky. “There’s a supermodel amongst us” I was told as we all danced in the same space.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out it to be one of the tall and thin women (“modelesque” as I like to say).  But the dark haired girl with a cool and composed demeanor was totally unassuming and not how you would normally imagine a supermodel out on a Friday night to be.  No glitz, no pretense, no entourage (per se – she had a few friends), nothing fancy.  Just a regular girl having a good time with her friends at a bar.  She was UK supermodel Erin O’Connor.

She wasn't quite this dressed up.

Now admittedly (and apologies to Erin) I have know idea who that is but it was cool to know that someone like her is not afraid to mingle, play, and be seen at a local pub.  And it was no big deal to either the pub or the clientele. Maybe it’s different in LA and New York where people are more into celebrities and easily starstruck and an extra bubble of protection (bodyguards, bouncers, roped off VIP sections) is needed. Or maybe she’s that cool and accessible that no one freaks out when they see her. When she and her friends left, the pub was just down a few patrons.  The drinking and dancing continued.  It was just another pub on a Friday night.  And a good time was had by all – south of the river.

After such a refreshing experience I am now a fan…

…of Camberwell, the pub, and of course Erin.