(no subject)
In between rediscovering the stink of Camden Lock on a Sunday and arguing with an assortment of retards at Angel Tube, I attended my very first celebrity gathering in the shape of the Kylie private view at the V&A. Having started the day in my tramp's cons and a primark top I was entirely pissed off when I found out I could go, but my boss let me of early to decorate myself.
Tonnes of press, schools of fashionable hangers-on, gallons of champagne and poncey cocktails with glitter and needlessly 'exotic' ingredients (when we all know a wee shot or two of jaeger would've done the trick) and male models tripping over themselves to refill your glass, madam. I spent most of the night rotating my head owl-like and on tippytoes, craning to catch the next famous. The best sights were Germaine Greer fannying around the bar, Julien Macdonald having to look UP to me and Grayson Perry's enormous bustle bumming me all the way through Kylie's speech. Gutted that I missed Dita! Already quite pissed went and had a butchers at the exhibition in question. Obv the best bits were the Neighbours dungarees, but y'know, it's free so I'd recommend it. Keep an eye open for the 'thoughts' notes at the exit - all grammatical errors corrected by the league of gentlemen. Bumped into Rosie again -!- and then helped myself to a very cute display cushion on my way out when I found out they'd stopped serving at 9.30! Walked down the pink-lit entrance stairs to bemused looks from the papparazzi and tourists who had gathered to catch a glimpse of La Minogue; parka on, two goody bags in one hand and a stolen cushion under my arm. Then I got home: the dream over, the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, and I vomitted up my living room wall.
Lok out for a great deal on a bottle of Kylie perfume will shortly be put on ebay.
Tonnes of press, schools of fashionable hangers-on, gallons of champagne and poncey cocktails with glitter and needlessly 'exotic' ingredients (when we all know a wee shot or two of jaeger would've done the trick) and male models tripping over themselves to refill your glass, madam. I spent most of the night rotating my head owl-like and on tippytoes, craning to catch the next famous. The best sights were Germaine Greer fannying around the bar, Julien Macdonald having to look UP to me and Grayson Perry's enormous bustle bumming me all the way through Kylie's speech. Gutted that I missed Dita! Already quite pissed went and had a butchers at the exhibition in question. Obv the best bits were the Neighbours dungarees, but y'know, it's free so I'd recommend it. Keep an eye open for the 'thoughts' notes at the exit - all grammatical errors corrected by the league of gentlemen. Bumped into Rosie again -!- and then helped myself to a very cute display cushion on my way out when I found out they'd stopped serving at 9.30! Walked down the pink-lit entrance stairs to bemused looks from the papparazzi and tourists who had gathered to catch a glimpse of La Minogue; parka on, two goody bags in one hand and a stolen cushion under my arm. Then I got home: the dream over, the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, and I vomitted up my living room wall.
Lok out for a great deal on a bottle of Kylie perfume will shortly be put on ebay.