I was at Anna's office today. There's some idiot- and my idiot I mean iii-deeeeee-oute in the Donatella way. Imagine the word "idiot" with a Italian accent, a shrieking, loud, Italian accent. This is how much of an iii-deeee-oute is. Sean someone, he says his name is. Avery? Like, a birdhouse.
He's a hockey player, and he just lurrrves fashion. He told me so. As I was enjoying my cup of Coca-Cola (served in a teacup, as Anna always does). Then he asked all these obnoxious questions:
"Karl, does my belt go with my shoes?", "Karl, do I look fantastic?", "Karl, Karl Karl!".
As you can imagine, this got annoying. At the Vogue offices, it is customary for the interns to bow before the great and beautiful. (Unless this person is Anna, where everyone, not just interns, looks down as if they've done something embarrassing. They're scared of her.) And that's all I really know about that guy, because Anna gave him some useless job (Guest Editor of some Vogue website), and he bounced away to that. Anna informs me that the day before he turned up in high collars.
There is a Chanel hot air balloon outside, made out of tweed. I must go, as I am flying to Tanzania to see what's happening with it's fashion "revolution".