I was quite bright as a child and subsequently won a scholarship to a private school, at the time my parents were financially comfortable but we were nowhere in the league of most of the girls I joined at C………. High School for Girls. I did not own a pony, I did not carry my books in a Chanel bag and we did not summer abroad and I was therefore somewhat of the odd one out.
One of the few friends I made there was a girl called Abbie and the year we were 12 she summered in Barcelona, two months of sun, sea and culture. I didn’t know much about Barcelona at the time but upon receiving a postcard featuring Gaudi’s Casa Batlló I fell in love.
Gaudi’s work went a long way to shaping my current taste, my interest in him pointed me towards Modernism, Dali, Luis Buñuel, Dadaism, Avent Garde film making and surrealism. He also spawned a lifelong interest in architecture and taught me to look up. All this having been said time for a confession. I have never been to Barcelona. I suppose I am afraid that during my teen years of wishing myself away from a school I loathed with people I detested and who felt the same about me I built it into place which defies reality. Barcelona to me is a mythical place where I will dream I will achieve a sense of belonging. My beloved Woody Allen did not help, his love letter to the city Vicky, Christina, Barcelona has only made the place more magical to me. Sometimes I feel a bit like Christina, searching… certain only, of what I don’t want.
This summer I am going. You know how the omnipresent we say don’t meet your heroes because they will only let you down? Well this city is sort of my hero, please don’t let me down Barcelona.