I don’t know when it started. I don’t know when it will end. But white, millennial lesbians in East London really love Brussels. I’ve had it variously described to me as both a “more chill Berlin” (not true) and a “smaller Paris” (also not true).
You know what Brussels is like? Antwerp: also Belgian, with lots of money, and a strong design sector.
How do I know this? Back In May, before Prides in the UK and the US, but on the occasion of Pride in Brussels, I caught the Eurostar over the Channel to see what the fuss was about. And no, it wasn’t any Eurostar trip, it was a Eurostar Premier trip – complete with a gourmet lunch, tea and coffee, and if you are so inclined, booze.
Considering myself to be on the evil femme spectrum, and rarely wined and dined by those also in the dyke community, I rarely say no to glamour and fine dining – and The Standard Brussels offered this experience in spades, making up for every subpar masc who has ever crossed my path.
Once we’d touched down in Brussels Midi, we were treated to lunch at The Standard Brussels in their Lila29 terrace restaurant. With slightly dizzying views of the city, we were treated to Iberian small plates, served family style, paired wine and a sneaky smoke for anyone who’d already bought cut-price cigs.
Afterwards, we bundled onto a coach for a whistle-stop tour of the city’s robust design credentials. Organised by MAD Brussels, an organisation dedicated to promoting and connecting Brussels’ fashion and design industry, we stopped off at Zaventem Ateliers – a former paper factory and now home to an eclectic mix of ateliers for artisans, artists, designers and set designers.
Also on our day trip hitlist: Espace Aygo, a queer houseshare of dreams. A five-person artist collective living in a four-storey townhouse, the collective has transformed the space through innovative, DIY design – from rubber baths, to handmade shelving. And, yes, there were some mullets and stick-n-poke tattoos on show as the artists showed us around their home-cum-gallery space.
Back in the coach, and then we arrive back at the Northern Quarter. The rest of the evening is dedicated to the hotel’s opening weekend and accompanying party, complete with a Gallagher offspring, a set by Honey Dijon in the hotel’s ‘The Greenhouse’ (a glass, botanical-themed event space) and, most importantly, free-flowing, gratis Veuve Clicquot.
Disgustingly hungover the next day – thanks to the hotel’s abundant generosity – I was forced to forego the main Pride celebration. But, admittedly, The Standard is not a bad place to be feeling sorry for yourself. The 200 room, 28-story building is fitted in sleek, modernist style and I had full permission to ransack the mini bar for chocolate.
Later, in a fragile state, I ambled through the city centre – sunglasses firmly on – to visit the Centrale for Contemporary Art, put my past five years of French lessons to the test (Francophones in Brussels are infinitely easier to speak to than Parisians, it seems) and sip a coffee while watching the Pride parade from a safe distance.
With so many European cities scaling back their Pride celebrations – or scrapping them altogether – it was a quiet joy to see the people of the city coming together. Kids, the elderly, and plenty of well-meaning straights all together, marking the occasion.