My relationship with London is fraught. It’s big, brash, and logistically infuriating. It’s wonderful, winding, and studded with beauty. It’s steeped in history and carved out in pockets each with a complete culture of their own. Every time I say I’m done with London, I find myself longing to move back–which I suppose has been its appeal since the Dicke…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to OLD FASHIONED to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.