Plaster’s Thirsty Thursday on the art gallery circuit: “Lollage is power”
9 min read
Dora DB and Izzy Bilkus are Plaster’s resident wannabe-gallerinas. Last night, they took to the town to report on the glamour, gossip and gunge from Mayfair to East London. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire…

Dutch courage at Mr. Fogg’s
It’s 5.30 pm. We’ve just finished work. We’re overlining our lips and complaining about our outfits. We’re in matching black from head to toe, decked out in fur trim, big rings and leather. “Oh my god, I think I’m coming out of my shell,” Izzy fizzes from behind her portable desk mirror. Our mission is simple: to embark on a night of gallery hopping around East London and report back. On our hit list were Auto Italia and Rose Easton, who were kicking off 2025 with some highly-anticipated work from Alex Margo Arden and Tasneem Sarkez. Did we succeed? Technically, no. We strayed from our strict Thirsty Thursday schedule, spending too long circling the drinks waiters at a Mayfair opening like hawks, and arrived in Bethnal Green (fashionably) later than planned. But as with any story worth reading, it’s about the journey, not the destination. It was our first night of openings of the year, so the pressure was on to report on all the glamour, goss and gunge from the scene. Not hard, we smugged, as we walked out of the office to find a pile of literal human shit on the pavement, which had narrowly missed a discarded flyer for Moco Museum.
Splattered shit aside, we were feeling good, excited to get the night started. But our bubble quickly burst when the security guard at the pub next door refused to let Emma in without her ID (DM us for her skincare routine). No worries though, as we were eventually let in after some gentle persuasion (“we work next door, I swear officer!”). We cheersed to the girlies, and to the freakin’ weekend and went over our game plan for the night.

Dora DB

Izzy Bilkus
Plaster HQ is just a short walk from Savile Row, so we decided to lube up by sussing out the crowd at the opening of Sojourner Truth Parsons’ solo show at Pilar Corrias. Walking into the gallery in our Matrix-esque fits, we were met with some strange looks from the crowd, who all seemed to get the same memo about Max Mara coats and feather hats. We approached them with nothing but respect. Trench coat buttoned to the TOP. We managed to vox pop a few members of the crowd who we bravely refrained from trying to recruit as our sugar daddies, and eventually decided it was time to look at some art. As it was basically our first night gallery hopping since making it out of the mental no man’s land that is Christmas and New Year, we were feeling a wee bit on the socially inept side. But we managed to seduce a few gallery goers to engage in some chats. Thank god we’d given up on Dry Jan a mere few days in. How could anyone get through a night like this without the crutch of a Skinny Bitch (voddy lime soda)? The paintings were a mix of patchwork and abstracted shapes, set against swathes of midnight blues. The press release explained that the artist “responds to the logics of frenetic expansion and wildness, using desire as a guiding principle.” Cool. Where are the drinks?

The crowd at Pilar Corrias

Drink break...

Exclusive Plaster merch

Everyone knows that girls can't go to the toilets alone
We homed in on a painting at the back of the gallery. “What’s it giving?” Dora asks. “It’s giving Elmer the Elephant,” quips Izzy. It was time to break the seal, so we hesitantly asked a gallery assistant if there was a loo we could use (a classic Plaster power move). To our surprise, there was! Maybe Mayfair wasn’t the cold, unwelcoming land we thought it was. We spoke too soon. When we returned to the toilet after another round of white wines, we were refused entry. We weren’t doing anything sus in there, we’re just high on life! With our tails between our legs and feeling too shy to get a pic with our first celeb spot of the night, Julie Mehretu, we headed outside for a cig, where we were approached by a punter: “Aww are you guys filming for a little project or something?” Um, no babe, this is REAL journalism. After spreading the good word about Plaster, she revealed that she “works in AI but would love to be an artist.” We’re sensing Maddox Gallery in her future…

It’s giving Elmer the Elephant
We were approached by a punter: 'Aww are you guys filming for a little project or something?' Um, no babe, this is REAL journalism. She soon revealed that she 'works in AI but would love to be an artist.' We’re sensing Maddox Gallery in her future…
That wasn’t a complete flop. “We got some footage and some lollage,” said Dora. “Lollage is power,” Izzy concurred. We check the time and realise we’ve faffed about for too long. It’s 7.30 pm and the shows we were meant to visit closed at 8 pm. We were starving, all we could think about was food. But we must focus on our mission, time is of the essence. Yes, another cig to suppress the appetite. If Kate can do it, so can we. In fact, it was her literal birthday so it was the ultimate tribute. It was a coin toss: Auto Italia or Rose Easton? Our fab photographer Isabel MacCarthy was already capturing the scene at Auto Italia for our Plaster Shoots series, so we decided on Rose, where Tasneem Sarkez was debuting her first solo show, ‘White–Knuckle’. We powered through our belly rumbles and mustered the courage to introduce ourselves to Tasneem, who invited us inside to glimpse the show before the gallery closed for the night. She was impeccably dressed in kitten heels (Theresa May would be proud) and pastel blue tights, coordinating with the show’s press release. Five stars. Ugh, women <3.

Tasneem Sarkez's outfit coordination

The crowd at Rose Easton
We then spot our second celeb of the night: Plum, Olivia Allen’s chihuahua. After months of seeing snippets of the puppy on Olivia’s Insta, finally holding her tiny paws in our hands awoke something in us that surely only real mothers must feel. Is this true love? Would we walk into traffic for a dog we’ve only just met? Could she fit in one of our pockets? We snapped back to reality. Turns out, it wasn’t just our social skills that needed a polish. “It’s my first opening of the year so I’m a little rusty,” Olivia shared when we asked for an exclusive Plaster take of the night. “It’s been cute,” added one PR. Good enough for us.
We may have also missed the opening at Auto Italia, but on the way back to the station we bumped into another friend of Plaster, who wished to remain nameless. They’d just seen Alex Margo Arden’s show. “I liked the assemblage at the back. Business in the front, party in the back – that’s just who I am.” Can’t argue with that! We were keen to know more about what we missed, so we pressed them further. “I loved the big crate with a sandwich inside. What more could you ask for? The paintings were a bit mid, but don’t quote me on that.” Sorry, but as serious journalists, we feel it’s our duty to share the truth with the masses.

Plum <3
And with that, Thirsty Thursday was complete. We started in Mayfair and ended on home turf in East London. “It’s like we’ve gone from Hogwarts to Waterloo Road,” reflects Dora. With our gallery-ometers finally topped up, we skipped over Whitechapel to catch the Overground. We almost drifted off as the gentle hum of the ‘Windrush’ line rocked us to sleep, as we sipped the last remnants of our milkshakes, a true Thirsty Thursday nightcap. We scurried off to bed, satisfied with our first endeavour of 2025, we’re back baby and ready for much more…
