ContainerPLUS

Last week I was invited along to the first in a series of seven deadly sins salons hosted by art collective ContainerPLUS, of whom i am a MAJOR fan. Held in their very cool offices in Shoreditch, the theme was lust, and racy talks by Coco de Mer founder Sam Roddick and historian Hallie Rubenhold (something of a historical specialist in wanton ladies) both titilated and amused, as did the aphrodisiac cocktails (pomegranite and lavender) and sexily sumptuous nibbles (incuding delicious dense brownies to die for). Before i left, i was blindfolded and led into a lust confessional booth where one of the women from saucily provocative dance troupe the Lady Greys elicited some sensual secrets from me and prescribed a deliciously fruity remedial tincture.  The next event, scheduled for mid-April has the theme of Greed...

Kinky Sex: A Sermon

So, it's a bit after the event, but my valentine's weekend was rather more filled with sex and lovers than i expected... yes, OK perhaps not literally, but what the hey, it was a riot. Friday saw me head to Battersea Power Station for a Lost Lover's Ball, which despite sounding like a woeful soft porn flick in the blurb was actually a pulsating throng of fancy-dressed and masked people buoyed by enthusiasm for partying hard. I basically went for the location, and it was amazing to be at such a lavish party inside the dilapidated ruins of such a landmark building - surreal in an industrial wonderland kind of way... Super fun on the dance floor segued into a Saturday filled with heavy remorse and self loathing, so I was fit for nothing come Sunday but a sermon condemning me to hard time in hell. or so i thought. The School of Life's Sunday sermons are a world away from trenchant religious preaching, but are filled with fire and brimstone none-the-less; evangelising comes from maverick speakers about unusual topics. This week's sermon was on Kinky Sex by Grayson Perry (watch it online here in a little while) who, dressed in a black rubber dress with exaggeratedly large breasts, the nipples of which were pierced, held forth about the glorious perversions of kink and how the truly kinky (like transvestism) is a compulsion, not a saucy foray for a Friday night by 'vanilla' couples, a compulsion that's forceful, unignorable, innate. we finished the sermon by joining in song... the 'hymn' was Venus in Furs. gloriously appropriate, i thought...

Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather

Whiplash girlchild in the dark

Comes in bells, your servant, don't forsake him
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Downy sins of streetlight fancies
Chase the costumes she shall wear
Ermine furs adorn the imperious
Severin, Severin awaits you there

I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colors made of tears

Kiss the boot of shiny, shiny leather
Shiny leather in the dark
Tongue of thongs, the belt that does await you
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

Severin, Severin, speak so slightly
Severin, down on your bended knee
Taste the whip, in love not given lightly
Taste the whip, now plead for me

I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colors made of tears

Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather
Whiplash girlchild in the dark
Severin, your servant comes in bells, please don't forsake him
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart

5x15: a mixed bag, but worth it

The last time i went to 5x15 (a monthly storytelling event a bit like The Moth in NYC, and where 5 speakers each stand up and talk for 15 minutes about a subject of their choosing) it was for the launch,and I'm thrilled the project has gone from strength to strength. Happily the second strength has landed them in The Union Chapel on Upper Street, rather than The Tabernacle in Notting Hill which is not only SUPER convenient for me (I live very near) but such a fabulous location - candlelight, columns and stained glass windows certainly lend a certain theatrical grandeur to the proceedings.

Monday night's speakers included the rather ill-prepared Janet Street-Porter who ranted about dining out and waxed lyrical about shower caps; Jay Rayner who treated us to an impromptu jazz performance on the ivories and raved about it's wonders; Paper Cinema staged a paper animation of a sinister Edgar Allen Poe story involving a town overrun with the dead who terrorise then woo the villagers; Tiger Mother Amy Chua, (above, teeny tiny) who agitatedly attempted to defend her rather draconian and exacting parenting methods; and the glorious, inspiring, thoroughly wonderful Judith Kerr, author of one of my favourite books of all time, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit - a fictionalised account of her own childhood flight from pre-WWII Germany to Switzerland, Paris and eventually London - which is what she talked about here: she was utterly magical to hear, especially with her cut glass war-time accent. 

For more info, visit 5x15.

The New Yorker Festival

The New Yorker has a festival; a weekend literary one. In NYC, obvs. anyway, by luck (the luck of the Icelandic volcano that postponed my trip by 6 months), I was in town for this year's one. Obviously i didn't go to all the events, but i did go to a few, my favourite being The New Yorker teaming up with The Moth. The Moth organises storytelling nights where speakers come and tell a story, a true story: no notes, lasting no more than 10 mins. We have something similar in London 5x15 (the one on the 18th Oct has a great line up), but it's less storytelling than a talk, still good though. The Moth nights also generally have a theme... this collaboration with The New Yorker saw New Yorker writers tell a true story about working at the New Yorker. It was completely fascinating as the stories behind the stories emerged - the luck of the first OJ trial expose by Jeffrey Toobin, Jane Mayer's story behind abuse at Abu Graib. they were completely engrossing - truly brilliant - and all without notes... no hesitation, repetition or confusion.

At another event I also heard Zadie Smith and Michael Chabon talk about their work - here's a video link to them discussing their preferences for writing fiction/non-fiction. Zadie Smith seemed on edge. Michael Chabon, well, i think i might just be in love.

5x15

Last night was the first in a series of literary soirees called 5x15, an event organised by Rosie Boycott and her daughter and held at the Tabernacle, in Notting Hill. The idea stemmed from a conversation held over a glass of wine at The Tabernacle about how nice it would be if someone would tell them a story while they sat there and drank; a short, punchy story. And so 5x15 was born, where five thinkers stand up and tell a story in 15 minutes to the assembled drinkers. The effect is a bit like a 'thinker's cabaret'. It's an ideal set-up; if you like the story you can buy the extended version (their book) from the makeshift Lutyens & Rubenstein stall in the hall after the event, if not, you only have to suffer the boreathon for 15 minutes. the opening storytellers were Rupert Sheldrake talking about morphic resonance - more interesting than it sounds, trust me; Hannah Rosthchild talking about her idiosyncratic and eccentric aunt's fascinating relationship with Thelonious Monk, Jack Klaff's quite frankly incomprehensible story about, well, actually i still don't know, and don't care for that matter so long as it came to an end; Hanan al-Shaykh chutzpah tale about her rebellious, impetuous mother, who bucked the system in 1930s Lebanon; and Sara Wheeler who regaled us with stories from her intrepid trip round the arctic (so good i bought Magnetic North following the talk).

I thoroughly recommend the eve - £15 well spent. the next one is on the 22nd, i can't go, but i'm definitely going on the 13th March i think (or thereabouts) - speakers include Beth Orton and Deborah Moggach - two people whose work i adore.