Happy Monday! I hope everyone had a smashing start to their week- I did! I am so incredibly in love with my job! Interning with Upper Street London is the best thing I've ever done. The whole Upper Street team is lovely, I'm surrounded by shoes, and I am passionate about the work I am doing. Today I researched images of luxury shoes and wrote about what sets them apart, the story they tell, and branding. I studied pictures of Louboutins as "work" today. Attention: I have found my dream job.
While at work, I also braved the kitchen once more to face my arch nemesis: the French press. I took the French press off of the shelf with confidence and determination. I'm entirely kidding! I could hardly reach the top shelf (short girl problems) and still had absolutely no clue what I was doing. I got a generous spoonful of finely ground coffee, most of which landed on the (previously) spotless white counter. Excellent! I found some paper towels, cleaned up my mess, and tried again - all while clacking around in my stilettos on the tile floor. I put in a heaping spoonful of coffee and filled the press about half way full with steaming water. I let it steep as I found a mug, some milk and sugar. I pressed the coffee grounds to the bottom, held my breath in anticipation, and tipped the French press over the mug. What I poured out was a river of glorious, mahogany-colored coffee cascading from the heavens! For reference, I drank about two cups of coffee per day when I was in the States, and have had coffee maybe three times since moving to London- I've been having withdrawals. The last time I used a French press, I made about 3 tablespoons of coffee the color of soy sauce and the consistency of syrup. I happily (and honestly, a bit pridefully) sipped my coffee while conducting my research at work, which was the perfect afternoon pick-me-up on a rainy day.
You may be wondering why I needed a cup of coffee so badly (besides my coffee addiction) at work. I will tell you why! Because I engaged in strenuous exercise on the way to work.
I am not talking about to half mile walk to the Underground Station or the physical effort it takes to strut around London in a fitted dress. I am talking about the excruciating (and literal) uphill battle that is Arsenal Station. For those of you who have never been to Arsenal Station, avoid it with urgency if you are able. This is no normal underground station, no no. This is an underground station designed to re-sculpt your entire body.
The first time I ever used Arsenal Station was the day I went to Upper Street to meet Julia, the CEO. I began my exit of the tube station in way that appeared, at first, unassuming. I took a flight of stairs and made a turn. I (for whatever reason) thought it would be like the 20 other underground station's I'd been to in London, which meant exiting had three options from this point:
1. More stairs
2. A lift
3. An escalator
Of course, that would have been too easy while on transit to my first meeting with the CEO of Upper Street. Dressed in a flowing, silk knee-length skirt, black stockings, a blouse and black blazer, I was dressed for success- just not the successful exit of the Arsenal Underground Station. Oh, and I was of course wearing brand new BCBG wedges- free of any and all traction on the soles of the shoes!
I turned the corner to find Mount Kilimanjaro. Whoops I mean Mount Arsenal. The winding, uphill, tile floor that spanned for hundreds of yards in front of me proved to be the most extreme workout I had experienced in my entire life. Competitive swimming and dancing en pointe have nothing on climbing Arsenal Station. I used every muscle in my lower body to haul myself up the slippery floor in my wedges (which were slick as ice on the bottom). I felt that every step I took, I was sliding half a step backward. I had to move faster. I forced my quads to work at double time, but my legs were cramping only half way through the hike. My calf muscles ached as they were forced to climb in 4 inch wedges. My hamstrings were beginning to quit when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. I saw the light shining through the ticketing gates at the exit.
But it was a trick! The closer I came to the end of the tunnel, the faster the cold wind channelled into my lungs. Arsenal tunnel not only tones your calves, thighs, and glutes - it pushes your respiratory system to it's limits. With every step you take, another breath of icy, brisk winter air is forced into your lungs. Finally, I reached the few stairs leading to the exit gates, which looked like the pearly gates of Heaven. The pictures below hardly depict the 45 degree angle walkway.
When I left my meeting, I strolled back down to Arsenal, assuming the walk (which was nearly a tumble) down the walkway would be far easier than the uphill hike. Again, wrong. I took one step onto the downward sloping walkway and immediately felt myself slipping. Oh. No. I used every muscles in my body to keep my BCBG wedges from turning into skis on Arsenal's Black Diamond walkway. I engaged my lower abdominals to hold my lower body steady while I commissioned my lower body to move forward - without eating the tile floor for lunch. After about 10 minutes of an agonizing involuntary cross fit workout, I was overjoyed to see the stairs.
Needless to say, I have made my commute to work in flats and left my heels under my desk.
I am really happy, though, about the £70 I saved by not getting a gym membership and instead working near Arsenal. I will put it towards the new jeans I'll be needing after a few weeks of traveling through Arsenal regularly!
I think Precor should consider taking a business trip to Arsenal to study the muscles used while going up and down the sloping tile floors. If they can mimic that motion on a machine, they'd have the most successful (and painful) elliptical in the world! Ten minutes on the Arsenal elliptical each day and you'll have Candice Swanepoel's legs in no time! Again, kidding. I'm far too short for that. Maybe Kate Moss, at best.
xo
BJordan
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