Forgive me for using that unpardonable cliché, dahlings, but it is all too true!
I have spent all week up to my exfoliated elbows in “Haute Cou-Poor,” my program at the Fashion Institute of Technology. My nerves are stretched tighter than Madonna’s face! Sending out invitations to speakers such as Andre Leon Talley, P. Diddy or whatever he’s calling himself these days, Georgina Chapman, and many of my other comperes in fashion. It will do the ‘students’, as we are calling them (for tax reasons) so much good to listen to people who know of what they speak. I say, if we can talk just ONE student out of tattooing their neck, then my job is done.
Of course, there has to be an opening night party. It is to be held at the Beatrice Inn, a tres chic club that was once down on its luck but seems to be on the rebound. Although Courtney Love did hold her book party there—one does hope they cleaned up the stains afterwards. My first choice was the Gramercy Park Hotel. But that is still under construction because Julian Schnabel is just too fussy for words. Slap up some sheetrock, Julian, get the Picassos hung, and c’est fini!
So much to do, so much to DO! The guest list for the party is already ten pages long, and one knows that there will be any number of arrivistes trying to get in by saying they know moi. The doorkeepers shall wear white gloves and be...how can one put this tactfully...brutal if they must.
Meanwhile, my assistant keeps complaining about her workload! The lazy brute always seems to be staring into space when I come into the office, then jerks out of her reverie when I clear my throat.
When last I demanded, “What can you be thinking about,” she answered, “Suicide.” One supposes that is her idea of a joke. Personally, I prefer the dog poo worn on the duck-billed caps back in North Carolina, if you’re going to sink that low for humor. (See my earlier entry about visiting the Dixie Classic Fair.)
You will have to excuse me, I need to go agonize over what I am to wear! I have nothing, NOTHING! Three walk-in closets and not a single rag worthy of the name!
Oh, I've been so distracted, I forgot to report that a lovely gentleman at Michael Kors purchased my vintage faux fur handbag. Look for them to proliferate under the MK name next season!
Grab the hottest styles while you can at my Ebay store.
Vintage 50s Faux Fur Coat With Satin Leopard Lining XL:
Dior Navy Blue High Heeled Pumps, size 11:
And ever so much more!
And to answer the many inquiries as to what I dressed as for Halloween: I dressed as myself, because there is no one more fabulous.
Sincerely,
Elisa and Bucky The Wonderdog
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