forgot about the inroom massage she’d been itching for. She forgot about Paris.
“I believe I said, I hope he’ll find a moment to get away from his life and come by,” the concierge answered sweetly.
“You did not,” Blair whispered tightly, leaning across the counter, her voice very quiet. “You said wife.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood,” the concierge replied.
“Well, I’m sure you misunderstood!” Blair shouted. She had never been shy. “I heard what you said.”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. I’ll just need to have his Lordship pop by to sign the papers and the matter will be settled.”
“He’s not married. She’s his cousin,” Blair went on. “And I’m his girlfriend.” She was practically shouting. On the other side of the lobby the Italians turned to look.
The concierge blushed deeply. “If we can just keep our voices down.”
“Fuck that.” Blair had had it with England, with everyone’s polite prattle, with the British insistence on quiet dignity. Blair wasn’t interested in quiet or in dignity. Fuck this bitch, fuck Britain, fuck Lord Marcus and fuck his horsey cousin Camilla. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home. “You know what? I don’t want the room. I want you to call British fucking Airways and book me a ticket immediately. One way, first class. To New York.” Blair dug into her bag and found her black American Express card, which she tossed onto the desk angrily.
“One way to New York, first class,” repeated the concierge. “Virgin has flights at eleven daily. I’ll see if we can get you a seat.”
Virgin. How appropriate. Not.
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
I’m sure some of you have seen it, and I bet you couldn’tbelieve it any more than I could. There I was, happily traipsingdown Madison Avenue, in search of some new washed-cottonbeach cover-ups when what do I see? The worst sign ever:Closed. Closed? It’s not what you think though: it seems thatBarneys’ creative director and dandy-about-town, GrahamOliver, is besties with a certain fashion-inept indie auteur andagreed to close up shop for a few days so the cameras can roll.
I just hope they reopen on schedule: the word is a certain star-let’s debut performance might need a bit of tweaking. Things areso grim, in fact, they’re shooting every scene she doesn’t appearin first, in hopes that all her practice finally makes perfect.
Now that Barneys is closed for a while, I’m thinking of leavingtown for good—no more of this popping back and forth oncharter jets and helicopters. I know I said that things don’t getcooking in the Hamptons for a while, yet—I usually wait until theFourth of July to hunker down for the season—but I’ve beengetting reports about some intriguing activity out on the island. Imight have to check it out myself. It’s so hard to be me: howcan I be in two places—or three or four or five—at once? Notthat I’ve ever had a problem with it before.
summer survival guide
I’m not going to name names—unusual for me, I know—butthere are plenty of repeat offenders out there. So as a refresher course, here’s everything you need to know about:
1) Tanning
Obviously, the real thing is best. If Mother Nature isn’t complying, airbrushing is acceptable, but remember, whether poolside or in that little spray chamber, you must go naked: tan lines are a turn-off. And remember to wax two days before and exfoliate! Your streaks and splotches aren’t fooling anyone.
2) Brows
For starters, you know you’re supposed to have two, right? Now put down the tweezers. No, throw them away. Go see my friend Reese at Bergdorf’s ASAP. And I don’t want to hear any complaining about how it’s $45 per brow.
3) Waxing
It’s bathing suit season, so landscaping isn’t optional. If you’re going to be wearing that Eres bikini, we’re all going to get a
“I believe I said, I hope he’ll find a moment to get away from his life and come by,” the concierge answered sweetly.
“You did not,” Blair whispered tightly, leaning across the counter, her voice very quiet. “You said wife.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood,” the concierge replied.
“Well, I’m sure you misunderstood!” Blair shouted. She had never been shy. “I heard what you said.”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. I’ll just need to have his Lordship pop by to sign the papers and the matter will be settled.”
“He’s not married. She’s his cousin,” Blair went on. “And I’m his girlfriend.” She was practically shouting. On the other side of the lobby the Italians turned to look.
The concierge blushed deeply. “If we can just keep our voices down.”
“Fuck that.” Blair had had it with England, with everyone’s polite prattle, with the British insistence on quiet dignity. Blair wasn’t interested in quiet or in dignity. Fuck this bitch, fuck Britain, fuck Lord Marcus and fuck his horsey cousin Camilla. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home. “You know what? I don’t want the room. I want you to call British fucking Airways and book me a ticket immediately. One way, first class. To New York.” Blair dug into her bag and found her black American Express card, which she tossed onto the desk angrily.
“One way to New York, first class,” repeated the concierge. “Virgin has flights at eleven daily. I’ll see if we can get you a seat.”
Virgin. How appropriate. Not.
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
I’m sure some of you have seen it, and I bet you couldn’tbelieve it any more than I could. There I was, happily traipsingdown Madison Avenue, in search of some new washed-cottonbeach cover-ups when what do I see? The worst sign ever:Closed. Closed? It’s not what you think though: it seems thatBarneys’ creative director and dandy-about-town, GrahamOliver, is besties with a certain fashion-inept indie auteur andagreed to close up shop for a few days so the cameras can roll.
I just hope they reopen on schedule: the word is a certain star-let’s debut performance might need a bit of tweaking. Things areso grim, in fact, they’re shooting every scene she doesn’t appearin first, in hopes that all her practice finally makes perfect.
Now that Barneys is closed for a while, I’m thinking of leavingtown for good—no more of this popping back and forth oncharter jets and helicopters. I know I said that things don’t getcooking in the Hamptons for a while, yet—I usually wait until theFourth of July to hunker down for the season—but I’ve beengetting reports about some intriguing activity out on the island. Imight have to check it out myself. It’s so hard to be me: howcan I be in two places—or three or four or five—at once? Notthat I’ve ever had a problem with it before.
summer survival guide
I’m not going to name names—unusual for me, I know—butthere are plenty of repeat offenders out there. So as a refresher course, here’s everything you need to know about:
1) Tanning
Obviously, the real thing is best. If Mother Nature isn’t complying, airbrushing is acceptable, but remember, whether poolside or in that little spray chamber, you must go naked: tan lines are a turn-off. And remember to wax two days before and exfoliate! Your streaks and splotches aren’t fooling anyone.
2) Brows
For starters, you know you’re supposed to have two, right? Now put down the tweezers. No, throw them away. Go see my friend Reese at Bergdorf’s ASAP. And I don’t want to hear any complaining about how it’s $45 per brow.
3) Waxing
It’s bathing suit season, so landscaping isn’t optional. If you’re going to be wearing that Eres bikini, we’re all going to get a
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