I tucked the daughter in with a Karl teddy bear tonight. Anna said to me as I tiptoed out of her room in my little Lanvin shoes which squeeze my feet so nicely (- is this a little fetishistic? No, what Tom Ford does is fetishistic.)- Anna said to me "isn't it a little odd, your daughter sleeping with the teddy bear version of you?" and I said "you sleep with the Teddy bear version of yourself, Anna".
I think she made a "Hmph" noise or something- I guess that's meant to mean something but my Karl-vision beneath my sunglasses did not detect anything so I continued: "Anyway, Karl bear is a separate being. He is a teddy bear and I am not- not matter what Tom Ford says. I'd rather Karl bear be he boyfriend than one of them demode ones."
"A boyfriend!?!?" Anna said, her mouth turning into two interwoven pink snakes revealing her not-so-good teach forming a sort of black hole of Vogue-ness.
"Karl bear, Karl, is a bear."
"But have you seen the boys around her? So demode with their giant ten-gallon hats and Coach purses"
"Boys with Coach purses?"
"All the rage, apparently
"Do their ten-gallon hats contain alcohol of any sort?"
"Possibly. By the way they dress..."
"Non, non. They're too young for you, Anna."
"I can drive, know. They'd think I'm cool. Hip."
"They ride horses I think. At the ranches."
"She needs a good boyfriend, yes?"
"Mm. I wonder if I....have someone that age, hmmm?"
"You were going to say son, weren't you?"
"Ye-- that'd be incest. Illegal, and too royal to be Chic."
"Someone else, then."
"Like me. Chic."
"And not a bear."
"So do they have alcohol underneath their hats or not??"