Just before London, I got a call.
“Have you seen the skull stickers?” chirped one of the Plastics. She bumped down Broadway in a cab, three Bergdorf bags in tow. “There’s one on my dashboard,” she continued, “and yesterday? On the bathroom wall? They’re on these little stickers? They’re purple.” A pause. “They’re cool,” she says, an appraisal. “Can you get me one?”
Yesterday at Kate’s, the skulls were on the menu. “Awww,” grinned Ellen, “those look great.” We passed the plastic around. “I love the lavender,” I said, before skimming for eggs and toast. “Have you seen them in the cabs?” Heads bobbing. Everyone’s into it. “I saw them in the dressing room,” says a whisper. “I saw them in the lounge.” I don’t think this is true, but I like the legend: a sharpie and some stickers and it’s off.
This morning I came home with a fresh bag of Marc and a Flake bar, and on my vanity was a sticker. With a skull. I laughed and searched for clues, but all I found was a lavender marker, which is now, most definitely, mine.
[SaMO - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]