To the London heat wave,
Can you be a lover and hustler?
32 degrees is hot. Bloody boiling. You feel like being stuck in a microwave at full wattage. And don’t get me started on the tube.
Warm weather usually reminds me of drinking Aperol by the beach, music festivals and ice cream after dinner with friends. Days where the sun doesn’t set until 10pm and everyone’s skin is sun kissed with freckles. The mood is lighter, more dazed and free. Romantic.
But here, the thick air and fiery sun clash with the city’s allure. Rom-coms like Love Actually and The Holiday romanticise London, but only in winter. The lights glisten, there’s depth to the colour of red wine, and a warmth reserved for scarves around neck rather than UV from the sun. An artificial coolness that comes with the chill in the air. The jitters of kissing someone out the front of a pub, or sipping coffee indoors while watching the rain pour outside.
Conversely, the heat acts like a roadblock, making dashing past tourists harder and the tubes just more likely to get delayed. An inconvenient obstacle when Londoners are always in a rush. A city full of office buildings as tall as the Eiffel Tower and people yearning for success. To be closer to the top of a never-ending ladder. It was one of the reasons I moved to London. New careers, people and places. A freshness. A challenge. An opportunity.
Since moving here, I’ve felt incredibly ambitious, maybe because London presents so many ways of being successful. Not much feels unconventional. I’ve met writers, set designers, musicians, producers and film grips at the same frequency as accountants, lawyers, doctors and people working in M&A. I find myself craving more. More creativity, more random side hustles and new projects. More connection and inspiration. A passion so strong, it often takes the centre stage.
So when you show up, rays blazing, there’s a discomfort that makes your brain foggy from dehydration. A heat counterproductive. The warmth of a holiday, but you still have work. It’s uncomfortable, sweaty and definitely not sexy.
Which got me thinking, can you be a lover and a hustler?
Warm and hearty and ambitious and driven. Successful and shining? Kind, loving and hardworking? Or, can you just have one?
Sitting in a cafe writing this (and now locked outside on my front steps), there’s no aircon, no breeze, yet there is a beauty. My morning laced with productivity and blue skies, while my evening will be a date likely at a pub full of people drinking beer. There’s a beauty in people wearing bikinis in parks or the promiscuousness of wearing flip-flops on the tube. How the sound of ice cream trucks softens ambulence sirens or you can watching Wimbledon in Kings Cross alongside Google employees on their lunch break. And, running through the fountains outside Central Saint Martin, which are filled with more children than a water park.
The slightly unhinged nature of London summer – how people dive into Hampstead’s (probably toxic) murky brown water or jet around on fluorescent lime bikes without a helmet – is so carefree. This morning my housemate asked if her outfit was appropriate for the office, then before I could answer said, “fuck it, it’s too hot.” A layer of bliss, a lack of bother. And isn’t that how life should be? A balance of aspiration and romance, filled with glimmers of novelty. Because both things can be full of desire. You can have structure and spontaneity. Because, like love (and you) – that’s hot.
xx Mandy
p.s. 32 degrees in London is different to 32 degrees in Australia. It is a heatwave and does feels like at least 40. I’m sorry for calling the British dramatic (or maybe I am now too).
