I Spy With My Little Eye
Bill Ralston – leave me alone.
My god – the man is infatuated with me. No matter where I have gone over the last few months, I turn, and there is my lovelorn shadow. Dining at Soul or SPQR, walking down Queen St, or coffee at Agnes Curran – there he is. Of course, those with a cold, cynical heart might argue it is purely coincidence, and point out that he doesn't seem to know who I am, but I laugh in the face of reason. I know he's just playing it cool.
Speaking of Agnes Curran, a slight acquaintance was there in line in front of me. The label on her 'Chloe' dress was turned up from her collar. Everyone could see it, how embarrassing! "Oh, your label is sticking out," I said, and thoughtfully folded it back in again. From her terse smile, I could tell she was thankful I had amended this lapse of grooming. However, I am sad to say, standards have slipped in the designer market – sewing skills not what they once were - for minutes later I saw her leave, and the errant label was sticking out again.
Such a fairytale marriage – although Prince Charming might wonder how his Shagging Beauty turned into Coldilocks.
New Year's Eve party, the Lanson was flowing freely, but when the clock struck two, she turned into a nagging pumpkin and sent him to bed. Gosh. What with the early bedtimes, endless complaining, and no sex, he may as well have married his mum. And so they all lived crappily ever after.
7 comments:
Exactly - labels are big pet peeve.
Rule of life #1: cut labels off!
Bill used to stalk me at Pregos. Embarrassing for him, always being there before I got there, still there when I left etc.
May be it's the West Aucklander in me, but perhaps the label was left out on purpose. But I can't think why you'd bother down that end of Ponsonby.
I was at a wedding last weekend and I had a ghastly old boa constricter in front of me. She insisted on wearing sun glasses inside and neon apricot lipstick and nail varnish - how quaintly 1980s. I rolled my eyes as she loudly shrieked, blew kisses and waved to anyone and everyone, even as the bride rolled up the aisle.
She also had her Trelise Cooper vest,blouse and skirt tag all out on display, plus her Trelise Cooper
jacket half inside out draped so all could check out the label as it was casually slung over a chair.
I couldn't resist by loudly alerting her to the fact that her brave confirmation of her Size 20 status was on display for all to gawk at.
The old boiler looked at me daggers, hissed a faux word of thanks but sure emough at the reception they were all out again.
Cheers,sally
Sally - I am beginning to think you should have your own blog.
Sally,
Seconded.
Mrs Smith and Stef - you are much too kind in your suggestion of a Blog. But while Mrs Smith proclaims, in part, her Blog identity as 'Idle' -I actually fulfill the job description.
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