A trip to the Jacques Townhouse in Liverpool

…indeed, the loveliest trip I’ve had in some time!

Well if I didn’t just fall down the rabbit hole! In from the rain and determined to distract myself from the sirens and chaos of the last few days, I trotted along to Rodney Street. I had booked my tickets for the Jacques Townhouse weeks ago, but was somewhat bemused to find that number 86 was, in fact, an actual house! It transpired that a dear old man had decided to give up his home for a fortnight in the name of allowing such a fiasco to occur. (I gave him one of my hand-made treats as a thank you… you’ll read all about that soon enough.)

Upon stepping inside I was escorted by a devilishly handsome man to reception. From here, the night went loopier and lovelier by the minute. A beautiful blonde-haired girl and eccentric top-hat wearing fellow fed me copious miniature doughnuts, and I answered the pretend telephone to find that the master “had been expecting” me. (Of course he hadn’t, the phone was plastic with no-one on the end of the line, but I was merrily playing along as I licked the jam from my finger tips.)

I had to visit them before embarking upon my journey of the Townhouse because they gave me a special key, one that would enable me to obtain as many glasses of Jacques as I so pleased. After being taken by the arm by a beautiful pink-popcorn waiter, I stood next door and chatted merrily to the ladies behind the bar as I guzzled my second snack of the evening.

What kind of place had I been transported to? A lavish bed sat before me, decorated playfully with pillows and throws, and all sorts of birdcages and pretty flowers hung from every spare inch of the walls.

Curious, I took my drinks and food and pottered downstairs. What I found could only be described as the Mad-Jacquers tea party. Before me was endless supply of fresh cupcakes, bare as winter trees and gasping to be decorated. I took a seat with their baker, Caroline, and ploughed into the many supplies in front of me… icing, marshmallows, sweeties!

Liverpool One’s favourite starlet Kirsty Doyle was looking beautiful in a grey creation of her own, happily indulging in conversation with guests as her dresses took their pride of place by the fire. At 8.15pm sharp she talked to eager ears about her garments after having admired all of the glorious cakes that were around her.

After chocolate, fairy lights and a beautiful glimpse of the garden, one would be forgiven for thinking that I had experienced more excitement than a girl could handle. Alas, one would clearly have not taken to the upstairs compartment of the Jacques Townhouse. This was truly where I died and went to heaven.

Nails Inc were on hand to freshen up my grubby cake-tugging fingers, makeup artists were ready to pamper me pretty and closets were bursting with dresses to be worn. Photographers next door prepared a beautiful Summer scene for the ladies who had undertaken a transformation. Once wigs, feathers, pink flamingoes and other accessories had been draped, guests modelled the clothes that they had borrowed from the River Island collection or vintage selections and took their moment to be a Lily Cole in the making.

Like all good things, my trip had to come to an end. I said goodbye at the door to find that every single person had remembered my name, and indeed I was told to come back again. I cannot possibly think of another occasion at which I was treated like such royalty and will of course be back to the Jacques Townhouse before it disappears. What on earth are you waiting for? Book your free tickets now!

www.facebook.com/jacques

May I especially thank Claire and Caroline for a wonderful evening. I shall see you both again on Sunday! xxx