Wardrobe summary: black faux snake skin stacked round toe pumps, black pencil skirt, black Cavalli knit, grey Anna Sui overcoat, black Alannah Hill scarf. Make-up: Nars Emotional Rescue palette.
I am so sleepy and full. SB, SD and I just hit Nobu in Mayfair. It was so great to catch up with the girlies and have a lovely evening out. I am so dreading getting up early in the morning for a run. However, having just eaten London's supply of sushi I am feeling rather piggish. Hence, that's what I get - very little sleep and some physical pain.
Interesting couple at the table next to us tonight. What is stranger than watching two men with marine box haircuts, checkered shirts over haines t-shirts and lace up leather boots sharing a menu and choosing their dessert together? It's watching two such men with acid wash jeans and waistbands up around their armpits... I fear that by the end of our meal they had somewhat of a complex as SD told us her stories of how she's not in love with Americans in general. SD = v tall, v blonde, v striking, v loud amazonian style beauty. Those poor boys didn't stand a chance. More than anything it was their haircuts and dress sense that was in for the beating. Fair enough. It was appalling. If only it could be appropriate to slip someone your card and whisper for them to give you a call as you slide past their table. I think it would generate completely the wrong idea though. My card does inform the reader of the fact that I am a fashion consultant - but I think this may be lost under the described circumstances. Still, it's something I wish I could do on a daily basis as my eyes are offended by crimes against style all over London.
Goodnight, darlings. I promise to write more when I regain consciousness on the morrow.
xxx
I am so sleepy and full. SB, SD and I just hit Nobu in Mayfair. It was so great to catch up with the girlies and have a lovely evening out. I am so dreading getting up early in the morning for a run. However, having just eaten London's supply of sushi I am feeling rather piggish. Hence, that's what I get - very little sleep and some physical pain.
Interesting couple at the table next to us tonight. What is stranger than watching two men with marine box haircuts, checkered shirts over haines t-shirts and lace up leather boots sharing a menu and choosing their dessert together? It's watching two such men with acid wash jeans and waistbands up around their armpits... I fear that by the end of our meal they had somewhat of a complex as SD told us her stories of how she's not in love with Americans in general. SD = v tall, v blonde, v striking, v loud amazonian style beauty. Those poor boys didn't stand a chance. More than anything it was their haircuts and dress sense that was in for the beating. Fair enough. It was appalling. If only it could be appropriate to slip someone your card and whisper for them to give you a call as you slide past their table. I think it would generate completely the wrong idea though. My card does inform the reader of the fact that I am a fashion consultant - but I think this may be lost under the described circumstances. Still, it's something I wish I could do on a daily basis as my eyes are offended by crimes against style all over London.
Goodnight, darlings. I promise to write more when I regain consciousness on the morrow.
xxx
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