DAHLINGS -
Don't misunderstand the title, I'm certainly not in bed with anyone interesting. During the Inauguration I caught the most miserable cold, which is why you have not heard from moi all of this time. (Donations can be sent to your favorite charity.)
It is hideous...I lie here, sneezing and coughing and shifting Bucky constantly off of my legs. He gets overly protective at times such as these. And I have so much to prepare for! I am supposed to be writing a book, dahlings, but I cannot think straight with all of this bacteria in my system! And Fashion Week--my god!
Your faithful correspondent was already sick on the flight back to New York. I am ashamed to confess that I sneezed violently on Alec Baldwin, my seatmate in First Class. And on his dinner. And on his suede jacket. He was quite the gentleman about it, considering, in fact he hardly noticed, he was so busy talking with his assistant back in New York. "What else?" he kept saying. However, he did agree to my picking up the dry cleaning bill for the jacket. But now I know any chance for romance with Alec is shot. Damn. At times like this I wish he still drank, then I might have a chance some evening. But no, sober people always remember when you've sneezed on them.
Oh, dear, I must stop. This has been entirely too much for me, but it was my love for you, my wonderful public, that made me sit up in bed and dictate this to my assistant. More than that, one cannot ask, n'cest pas?
ACCCHOOOO!!!!!
Damn.
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Showing posts with label Inauguration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inauguration. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Dateline Washington DC: Inauguration Fashion!
(This is Mademoiselle's assistant, writing up her notes from the Inauguration. I hope she gets good and looped at the post-Inaugural luncheon, she's been impossible.)
It is absolutely frigid out here, even my silk knit lingerie does not help. I am bundled up top to toe. Thank goodness Bucky is back at the Willard Hotel; the little darling does not do well in these temperatures. The estimates of the crowd range from 1 million to 16 million, but all I know is that my toes are frozen.
Hillary Clinton is wearing a cobalt blue coat that would be perfectly acceptable except for that strange ruffle across the back. Laura Bush is wearing a suitably toned down gray ensemble; considering how loudly her husband had been booed on his entrance, it wouldn't do to dress to be noticed.
Dick Cheney is being wheeled out in a chair...how did I ever bring myself to sleep with him back in the day?
Ah, Jill Biden is wearing a wonderful lipstick red coat with an assymetrical collar. It is a bit hard to tell, but I think she has on black gloves with large black bumps on them that resemble nothing so much as Elephant Man disease. Her husband, the Vice-President elect, has on more makeup than she does, it seems from here.
Michelle Obama is wearing a marvelous sheath with a matching coat over it, in gold with white embroidery by Isabel Toledo. She has accessorized it with green gloves and matching green pumps. This is definitely a First Lady with a style mind of her own. I don't care for the jeweled collar, but otherwise, this is an instant classic. (Pardon my fawning, but this is the new administration and your faithful correspondent knows which side her bread is buttered on.)
They are beginning the ceremony--whose hair is stiffer, Dianne Feinstein's or Joe Biden's? Neither one's is moving in the icy wind.
What does Aretha Franklin have on her head? Oh, dear, she is not in good voice this cold morning. Somebody just called out "Sing good!" Poor Aretha cannot oblige. She must have a cold. All the moaning and melismas in the world can't cover up the fact that the woman is having a hard time hitting the notes.
WAIT A MINUTE--I SEE A SPACE HEATER! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT, OLD MAN!
Ha. Cheney thought he could hide it under his wheelchair. Oh, that is such a relief...to be continued!
Ciao,
Elisa sans Bucky the Wonderdog
It is absolutely frigid out here, even my silk knit lingerie does not help. I am bundled up top to toe. Thank goodness Bucky is back at the Willard Hotel; the little darling does not do well in these temperatures. The estimates of the crowd range from 1 million to 16 million, but all I know is that my toes are frozen.
Hillary Clinton is wearing a cobalt blue coat that would be perfectly acceptable except for that strange ruffle across the back. Laura Bush is wearing a suitably toned down gray ensemble; considering how loudly her husband had been booed on his entrance, it wouldn't do to dress to be noticed.
Dick Cheney is being wheeled out in a chair...how did I ever bring myself to sleep with him back in the day?
Ah, Jill Biden is wearing a wonderful lipstick red coat with an assymetrical collar. It is a bit hard to tell, but I think she has on black gloves with large black bumps on them that resemble nothing so much as Elephant Man disease. Her husband, the Vice-President elect, has on more makeup than she does, it seems from here.
Michelle Obama is wearing a marvelous sheath with a matching coat over it, in gold with white embroidery by Isabel Toledo. She has accessorized it with green gloves and matching green pumps. This is definitely a First Lady with a style mind of her own. I don't care for the jeweled collar, but otherwise, this is an instant classic. (Pardon my fawning, but this is the new administration and your faithful correspondent knows which side her bread is buttered on.)
They are beginning the ceremony--whose hair is stiffer, Dianne Feinstein's or Joe Biden's? Neither one's is moving in the icy wind.
What does Aretha Franklin have on her head? Oh, dear, she is not in good voice this cold morning. Somebody just called out "Sing good!" Poor Aretha cannot oblige. She must have a cold. All the moaning and melismas in the world can't cover up the fact that the woman is having a hard time hitting the notes.
WAIT A MINUTE--I SEE A SPACE HEATER! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT, OLD MAN!
Ha. Cheney thought he could hide it under his wheelchair. Oh, that is such a relief...to be continued!
Ciao,
Elisa sans Bucky the Wonderdog
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Dateline Washington DC: Inaugural Scrambling!
DAHLINGS -
I am back at the fabulous Willard Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, a mere block or two away from the White House, along with an entourage of assistants, makeup artists and hair stylists, helping the women on Washington get ready for both the Inauguration and the Inaugural balls on Tuesday. I am absolutely EXHAUSTED, but when money talks, fatigue takes a holiday. My apologies if that metaphor made no sense, but I had only a second to snatch to dictate this blog-thing. Bucky had to be put in his special extra-large dog carrier (made by Louis Vuitton to my specifications). One cannot take the risk of my little beloved sinking his fangs into someone with legislative power. Or even a lobbyist.
WHAT? WHY ARE YOU INTERRUPTING ME? DON'T YOU REALIZE I'M DICTATING? AND DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT LOOK!
Oh, damn, a conservative politico is having a meltdown over the idea of showing cleavage at an Inaugural Ball. It's Alexander McQueen, for goodness sake, what does she EXPECT????
Oh, all right...tell her we'll put the top fastening back on.
A Fashionista's work is never done. It was hard enough to convince her not to wear St. John. I am sorry that the confidentiality agreement I signed does not allow me to tell you who the frump is.
The ladies of the Secret Service on this floor are very happy with their shapely uniforms, as redesigned by moi. They can only wear them on special occasions, but a woman likes to feel like a woman, if you know what I mean.
Passez un bon temps ce soir, mes chers lecteurs, wherever you are. I will do my best to check in before then.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
I am back at the fabulous Willard Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, a mere block or two away from the White House, along with an entourage of assistants, makeup artists and hair stylists, helping the women on Washington get ready for both the Inauguration and the Inaugural balls on Tuesday. I am absolutely EXHAUSTED, but when money talks, fatigue takes a holiday. My apologies if that metaphor made no sense, but I had only a second to snatch to dictate this blog-thing. Bucky had to be put in his special extra-large dog carrier (made by Louis Vuitton to my specifications). One cannot take the risk of my little beloved sinking his fangs into someone with legislative power. Or even a lobbyist.
WHAT? WHY ARE YOU INTERRUPTING ME? DON'T YOU REALIZE I'M DICTATING? AND DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT LOOK!
Oh, damn, a conservative politico is having a meltdown over the idea of showing cleavage at an Inaugural Ball. It's Alexander McQueen, for goodness sake, what does she EXPECT????
Oh, all right...tell her we'll put the top fastening back on.
A Fashionista's work is never done. It was hard enough to convince her not to wear St. John. I am sorry that the confidentiality agreement I signed does not allow me to tell you who the frump is.
The ladies of the Secret Service on this floor are very happy with their shapely uniforms, as redesigned by moi. They can only wear them on special occasions, but a woman likes to feel like a woman, if you know what I mean.
Passez un bon temps ce soir, mes chers lecteurs, wherever you are. I will do my best to check in before then.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
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