Notes from Milan (1)

In Milan. Everybody's fat or anorexic, there's no in-between here. Armani just made a fool of himself at a bar last night; danced on tabletops. Raf Simons sulks in the corner, muttering to himself- wondering where his "boys" are? Donatella- shall I even get onto her? I think her lips are due for another injection- they're sagging. Valentino's been lurking about- mysterious. Saw the Prada woman going through trash bags- next seasons collection? She was wearing a barrel; smelt like they'd shot the fish inside said barrel a long time ago. Too much Pasta. I often wonder what use Italy is to fashion these days- it's like one of those useless parts of the body- like the heart or somesuch. Must be off now; Fendi calls.