Scene: the back of a very jammed party in a rickety vintage box on West Broadway. To your left, Mischa. To your right, all the reasons to walk away.
Imaginary Socialite: Hi.
Made 4 Chanel: Heyyyyy.
Imaginary Socialite: Dude, did we change the rules yet? Are we talking to each other again?
Made 4 Chanel: No, actually.
Imaginary Socialite: Okay. I’ll get out of your way then.
Made 4 Chanel: Hey, wait. Hold up. Your lipstick, you’ve got some right – wait, come here. I just want you to fix this one corner…
Imaginary Socialite: Nope. You can’t tell me what I need to fix if we’re not talking!
Made 4 Chanel: Oh yeah…
Imaginary Socialite: K bye.
Made 4 Chanel: Talk to you later.
Imaginary Socialite: But we’re not talking!
Made 4 Chanel: Yeah, but… whatever. I mean…
Imaginary Socialite: You’re totally laughing. I made you laugh.
Made 4 Chanel: Yeah. That’s not a surprise.
The Imaginary Socialite runs all the way home. The end.
[DORTHEA JORGANSEN - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]