one
“I love your outfit,” I say, because it’s dazzling – a shredded t-shirt and a sequined skirt with shattered seams. “It’s gorgeous,” I say. “Well, it’s easy,” she corrects. Okay.
two
“You don’t smoke, do you?” she asks, and even though I’m on my second cigarette, it’s true. “You hold it like a foreign object. It’s funny.” She takes my hand and shows me how to do it.. Tenth grade, again.
three
Her: “You must think I’m very French,”
Me: “You must think I’m very American!”
Her: “Yes!”
Me: “Is it because I talk so much and I’m smiley?”
Her: “No, it’s because you have eaten two desserts.”
We are the same size so I end up eating three, just for the record.
four
“You should take my apartment in Paris while I’m here,” she says. “Then you can learn how to smoke!” We get up to go. “Thank god you were here,” she continues. “Moving to New York is so scary because I don’t know anyone at these fashion things…”
Then Lazaro Hernandez walks in, and they jump up and down like long lost summer campers and I remember when I didn’t know anyone either, and I felt like myself.
[VIRGINIE MOUZART - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]
