Still
deeply traumatized by the horror of the great Vuitton massacre, I knew last
night, once I’d finished watching the Blossom marathon, slumber would be beyond
my reach.
Digging
through the medicine chest (and by ‘chest’ I mean an ‘ahoy me matey’ Pirates of
the Caribbean sized ‘chest’…) I discovered an empty vile of Propofol, shaking it
like a frazzled Au Pair, I hoped to dislodge a single sweet drop of ‘sleep
juice’…but nothing.
Desperate
for a dreamless sleep I decided to mix myself a ‘DJ AM’ cocktail, it wouldn’t
erase the memories but it would dull the pain. Sure enough, I was out for the
count in record time.
But
this morning as my drug induced fog lifted I could hear a shallow scratching
noise. Fuck it I thought, I should never have dropped acid with LB and Lady
Bird (Johnson), 40 years on and I still can’t shake the flash backs.
The
scratching slowly grew into a thumping and then I remembered…Yum Yum!
Bored
with the slop served up during Milan Fashion Week we resumed our game of Anne
Frank 2.0 BETA. As the name of the game suggests, Yum Yum hides in the crawl
space for as long as humanly possible while Imelda combs the walls of the
Palace of Despotism with a sonic radar – think ‘hide n’ seek’ but with much dire consequences.
Her
previous PB was 3 days and she could have gone longer had the game not been
compromised by Imelda’s emergency plant-o-wart biopsy.
Shoot!
Leona
(Hemsley) once told me, when she played Anne Frank with her servants, if the
game went longer than a week she’d have to cajole the help back into reality by
promising a pay rise. Pah! That woman was meaner than cat shit, and besides, as
an illegal immigrant Accountant can’t claim a payroll tax deduction on Yum
Yum’s already generous $2.42 a day salary.
Unlocking
the crawl space I threw a handful of kibble into the darkness.
*Munch.munch.munch*
Finally,
Yum Yum’s head darted out; blinking like a newborn marsupial she opened her
eyes. To the casual onlooker she resembled an anorexic Candy Spelling voodoo
doll, all buggin’ eyes and brittle hair. A little underfed (I’m hoping she can
keep up the thinspiration) and covered in what looked like rickets it was still
my l’il squirt kitty.
Anyhoo, the
reason I mention this is today I’d planned to get all Jeffery Dahmer on Marc
Jacobs, but after eight days in the crawl space Yum Yum needs a 'full Silkwood' and then my bunions need sculpting. So there’s been a change of plan.
We’re
having a snap poll. Below you’ll find Imelda’s Top 10 fashion week footwear
horrors.
Normally
I wouldn’t come out swinging with a poll (after all this is an Imelda-cracy not
a democracy) but S/S 10 was such a haute mess, I need help sortin’ the
‘gruesome’ from the ‘diabolical’…now get votin’
UPDATED
Polling has closed.
With 56% of the total vote, Louis Vuitton has taken out the dubious honour of being the 'hottest of the haute S/S 10 messes'. Anyone surprised?
