At Ralph Lauren’s 40th anniversary celebration at the Central Park Conservatory, your faithful correspondent was truly rendered speechless. It was not merely the celebrity-packed audience, one gets used to those, it was not even the fashions. They were marvelous. Although I shall never understand the appeal of jodhpurs. Why intentionally make one’s thighs look larger?
It was the hats. Not a single funny hat to be seen in the entire collection of over 70 looks! Wide-brimmed hats, top hats with veils, chic little 40s hats…all exactly right. I was slack-jawed with amaze.
The other simply astounding feat pulled off by the designer was that some of the models…
Smiled.
After the endless misery I had been watching on the runways since September 5th, there are no words.
But then I returned home the next morning before dawn to—DISASTER!
My assistant, that lumpkin, that peasant, that selfish pig, had RESIGNED in my absence!
There was a letter on my desk. I refuse to reveal the contents on the grounds that I might incriminate myself, or whatever it is they say on Court TV. Suffice to say she was not coming back.
The impudence! During FASHION WEEK, of all the times to quit! The baggage knew exactly how this would stab me in the back.
I fell back on the chaise lounge, Bucky licking my face sympathetically. Thank goodness dogs don’t know how to give notice. I had to think, and think fast. I needed an assistant, but where to get one?
Then I remembered…my maid has a teenage daughter, who speaks passable English, at least better than her mother’s. What girl wouldn’t leap at such a chance, if only for a few days until I could hire someone better qualified and kick her out?
I summoned the maid, and ordered her to bring her daughter to me immediately. I will write more later, after I get the detective’s report on where my assistant has vanished to.
No-one leaves the Fashionista in the lurch. No-one.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
No comments:
Post a Comment