i had decided that i would be surrounded by snootiness. and at the rehearsals to the fashion show i was vindicated to an extent, as a couple of the grumpy models (pals, frown lines are worse than laugh lines) refused to smile at anyone over a size 2.
so on the day of this exclusive show (only for sheikhas and others who had many thousands of $$ as spare change), i decided to beat them at their own game. i would turn up my nose and put on display my intellectual (if they can pretend to be more beautiful than they actually are, i can pretend to be more intelligent than i really am) superiority.
but, i could not stay grumpy or quiet for too long, and start chatting with the fashionistas around — the buyer, the consultant, the connoisseur and what-have-you; and believe you me, they DO work. what they do is both challenging and interesting — i really hate to admit this — and it requires brains too…
don’t get me wrong, i am no fan. but i am not as contemptous as before. i actually liked a lot of them (barring the grumpy models). i didn’t even have the urge to stab the one who sat across me and tucked into the cookies, canapes and cakes, and looked like she hasn’t had a calorie in decades.
i even picked up a few dos and don’ts. the don’ts are easier to understand — don’t ever wear any of the clothes in my wardrobe.
the dos… well i’m done with that!


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