I arrived to
Budapest in a cardigan on a brisk Saturday afternoon, the final destination of
a 10-day Central Europe excursion. Aside from Harry Potter references of
Hungarian dragons and wizards, I had no knowledge of the local language or
culture. Over the course of a weekend, however, I came to learn three valuable things:
“szia” (pronounced see you) means hello; “allo” means goodbye;
and the city’s fashion-minded people have a style sense that’s anything but
backwards.
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| Parlement Building |
After
slipping on a sweater at the hostel, I embarked on a self-guided city tour, a
quick dip past the major attractions then off to the fun parts of town, the
shopping and nightlife districts. Having visited the fashion capital Milan at
the start of my trip, I had little expectations for the fashion scene here. But
it became clearly evident that these Hungarians
know more than a thing or two on style. Barely 50 degrees out and
they've united statement skirts with knits, sweater vests with shorts, and it
all looked AMAZING. While the Champs-Elysee equivalent Adrassy Avenue displayed the latest collections of Prada, Dior,
Gucci and the like, what impressed me more were the little gems hidden around
the corners. Taking a right on Kiraly
Street I stumbled upon the hype eyewear store Orange Optica that showcased a collection of frames entirely carved
from tree bark. I then peeled off toward the underground bar scene on Kazinsky
Street and stepped inside Kék Ló Fashion Pub, a combination boutique and bar.
Beer in hand I perused the handmade felt jewelry and sequence-sewn sweaters,
all reasonably priced and so very chic. My bill came out to two Heinekens and a
leather braided headband, though I gladly would have bought the whole
collection had I the money or room in my suitcase.
The end of
Kazinsky Street led me to Erzsébet Tér
Park, a stomping ground for local artists, musicians and designers to show off
and sell their work. As it was getting late many were packing up to leave, so I
approached a brunette woman wearing the most deliciously dap watermelon pink
sneakers.
“I love your
shoes!” I said. She thanked me, explaining that her friend had made them. She
then asked if I liked making clothes and wrote down an address, suggesting I
come by tomorrow afternoon to see her friend’s show. “It will be fun!”
Confused but
more than intrigued, I arrived the next day to find a grungy apartment
building, the ground floor a vacant pub still unkempt from the night before. I
hesitated, the survival instincts of a girl traveling alone pushing to turn
around and leave. But the traveler in me, the “you only live once” part of my
mind, overruled and thus I crept through the bar and followed the arrow-signs
up a back staircase to the fourth floor. There I discovered a room of about 30
people grabbing at an enormous table piled high with strips of cloth, leather
scraps and all other imaginable fabrics. A beautiful blonde woman stood before
them, demonstrating how to handle a leather puncher on a pair of navy ballet
slippers crisscrossed with black straps.
Two things
came to mind. First, that I had found the magician of cloth who made the
heavenly shoes and second, what am I
doing at her workshop? Just then the brunette I had met the night before
approached me, placing scissors in my one hand and gently grabbing the other.
“This is
Anna,” she said, introducing me to the designer. “She is opening her beauty
school, so today is the party.” Anna, about to stitch a velvet wallet, stopped
to give me a hug. Not even asking if I lived in Budapest, let alone had an
interest in her school, she generously showed me the different tools I could
use to piece together a purse or hat or anything I liked.
“I’ve, um,
never really….” My cheeks turned pink, intimidated by all the creative energy
flowing around me.
“This is
your first time? Perfect!” she smiled, and guided me over to the fabric table.
“Pick your favorites, and see what happens.”
I stared at
the table for a good three minutes before finally closing my eyes and picking
two at random. A thin blue leather strap and a sheet of teal satin. Okay, inspiration, I thought, come hither! Of course, no sparks, so I
instead went about the room hoping to extract ideas from my fellow novices. Turned
out that I was the only novice. Everyone else clipped and snipped away at their
wallets and belts and shoes, mixing and combining the strangest of materials to
make something totally original. I felt in awe, watching them handle the
textile glue and sewing machines with such finesse, yet I knew in terms of
creativity that I could come up with something just as fun.
I finally
decided to make a bracelet. After 90 minutes of intense focus and the help of
Anna’s skillful hands, I managed to create a double tour trinket totally worth
wearing. I stood for a photo alongside the designer, proudly showing off my
final product. I know full well that it cannot compare to anything she or any
other fashionistas in Budapest sell in their stores, but this bracelet I
fabricated from a pile of scraps contains my own energy, my ideas, and my
memories of this vibrant, inviting city, which to me makes it a piece of
art.
