At lunch our table had gerber daisies, and we made a little ode to Louis in between our margaritas.
“It looks so fake,” he said and then started to list the other things that could be: Jessica Simpson knockoffs that look like Louboutins; fauxcialites who steal front row seats; girls who say they’re models; boys who say they love you.
“Maybe that’s why you’re so obsessed,” he said, “maybe you realize that everything that looks good could really be fake.”
“No,” I go, “It’s the repetition of the logos over and over, real into fake and fake into real. It’s numbing. Plus if I focus on bags, I don’t have to move to the hard stuff.”
But we did move to the hard stuff - margaritas to tequila shots in about two minutes.
[DEBORAH MESSING - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]