Poor Mischa and Delicious Strawberry Cheesecake Icecream

This evening the Great Love and I went out for dinner.

We are still very new to London; quite unfamiliar with the Eastern area of Bethnal Green where we reside; and busy exploring the rather cool and hipster-friendly hangout, Shoreditch.

We determined on my return trip from work that we would meet at Box Park on Shoreditch High Street, then go for a beer, before heading for dinner.

Because we are still new, the GL decided to catch the overland train to avoid the rain, and it didn’t actually stop at the station he wanted, so he ended up going twice as far past our meeting point when compared with the short walk from home. I digress.

We did catch up and we did casually wander the area searching for somewhere to eat. We strolled down Bethnal Green Road, before merging right onto the horribly-named Sclater Street and cutting right from there down the well-known Brick Lane. Ignoring the spruikers, beneath the railway we strolled, before cutting back along Quaker Street, pretty much bound for the first place we considered: Boho Mexica.

However, on the way there, we cut a quick block through Spitalfields Market and it was while there, while treading its perimeter, that I recognised a name each and every one of you once knew rather well: Mischa Barton.

A name of The OC fame and little else, excluding substance abuse and bad fashion, a while has she been absent. Well, in saying that, I have always harboured a modest appreciation for her adventurous fashion spirit. If nothing else.

Anyway, there we were, casually rain-soaked and hungrily wandering, searching for the perfect eatery, when I encountered the Mischa Barton store. It was the shop of Mischa Barton. Her fashion place. Barton’s store. Store of Mischa. So the signage said.

It was empty. It was desolate. It was very much discontinued.

It opened in August 2012 and James Middleton made the launch cupcakes. I could find this information via a lazy Google quest, but little else. My own eyes told me the shop was long closed, but my internet, well it could tell me absolutely nothing more.

It’s almost a neat reflection of her career: it very much existed, but try as I may, right now I can find very little of its existence.

It’s kind of sad, really. Kind of like this pointless post.

Post-script: The Mexican was fabulous. So too, the ice-cream which followed soon after. Some Strawberry Cheesecake Haagen-Dazs ice-cream. And here it is, the store, and me. Please excuse my reflection; very hard to avoid, you see?

poor mischa


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