A few weeks ago my friend and I decided to go for a couple of relaxed drinks. Even though our tiny hipster-hearts hurt, we ventured out of Malasaña and discovered how the other half lives.
We wandered around a little before stumbling across a bar, which seemed popular. As we entered (and I am surprised I was let in in my mom-jeans), our jaws dropped. Had we just located Aladin’s home? What kind of paradise oasis was this?
We strode across the checked floor, past what seemed like a jungle and up the massive staircase, pretending we belonged here. As we reached the top-floor bar, we realized how out of place we must look.
The girls in their tiny sparkly dresses showed off their perfectly tiny tanned bodies, and the guys looked like they just came from a photoshoot with their flawlessly styled hair and jumpers hanging out over their shoulders.
Then there was me in my mom-jeans and sandals.
After a couple of putivueltas (literally translated to bitchround – basically walking around checking out guys) and heaps of drinks later, we hit the dance floor, giving the DJ a quick shoutout for wearing a t-shirt that read girls with curves (he must have meant us) and proceeded with having a great time despite looking like a raisin in a bowl of milk.
So we decided to do it right next time. Beware supermodel guys, we are coming for you!
// Habanera // Plaza De Colón, Madrid // Metro Colón // Web //