Last night, believe it or not I really did have tthe intention of being a mature miss and spend the weekend working - day and night. Honest! The best laid plans of mice and men (you know the rest). Franck my French buddy, whose well integrated in west end club scene gives me a call 8pm-ish with his francias twang 'Allo Mercy, what are you doing? At this point working on my website. His response was 'On Friday night! No more work, come to Baroque tonight, it's the Fashion TV party...hosted by Lindsey Lohan, you know Lindsay Lohan?.
What to do but laugh...the poetic comedy of it all. I must say he got me at Fashion, Lindsay was merely a garnish so caution was somewhere above the Atlantic carried by a sea wind. I was thinking to my self where is your self constraint? Probably with the caution over the Atlantic. So now my working evening was a working to get dressed and out of the house by 10:30. Luckily last week at the Clothes Show I bought a stunning cream chiffon and embroided dress with rose detail, on it went all a glow and out the door.
Hate me if you will, I certainly hate me for it, but who gave away her camera battery to a certain gentlemen off to sunny Rome? Me, and stupid for it! Your honor I did not know I needed it....I thought I would be at home in joggers trying to figure out flash, xml and php! phhhhhfff. Ok so I have a blackberry, but its a wackberry when it comes to taking pictures in dark clubs. C'est le vie I suppose and I'm more laissez faire than a stressberry. I think c'est le vie once more.
I get in, Aaron and his friends kindly invite me to their table and maybe an hour in a wave of bulky men in black rush past me, nearly injuring my cute outfit (and me too), like a desert storm and the eye of it is a seriously guant Lohan. There was no Fashion TV!!! you lied Franck! Damn guy....it was just garnish, no leg of lamb, no sleek gastro delight just coriander leaves! Tut. To make it worse I moved onto a table next to hers (good time good vibes Ian's table) and in that time:
1. A very drunk very groupie and interestingly strange female started asking me if I knew the slim pickings Lindsay. Of course I don't I would be sitting next to her smoking in a non smoking club looking down on the people I love watching me, all because I was part of her entourage. On figuring it out, eventually, she just asked me to step aside so she can 'stare' at her. I kid you not! WTF OMG LMAO and all those letters. Who knows what she is capable of she might stab me if I say no, so I stepped 2 metres aside where I could spy her staring lovingly at the Lohan.
2. By the time SWF (Scary White Female) disintegrated somewhere, maybe into stalker dust or beaten down by more aggressive stalkers, I decided to sit on a poof, smack bang in the middle of Lohan and us. Wait for the climax guys, some small Lohan hanger on-er guy tells me 'no no, you can't sit here. You can't sit to close to the table! Lets just say he apologised, and probably went red oll over for his insolence. Damn guy!
The rest of the night was spent fighting of drunk men. Nice! So home by 4am, what had I accomplished? no pictures, no increased knowledge of flash, xml or php, no fashion TV (:-(). Ok, so I met a few designers and fur coat designer (blue fox hair jacket expected in August), saw how sickly skinny Lohan really was, wore my ab fab dress and had a blog worthy adventure. I hadn't lost it all to the bank.
Me Me
