After Dark

I am really getting very sick of this.
"This", being the so-called recession everyone's talking about.

Let's start at the beginning.
At 1AM I had Heinrich, my computer operator, read out the searches that people find me by. I am slightly disturbed by whoever searched for me using the term "I see you everywhere Karl Lagerfeld." I imagine this disheveled fashionista, probably from lookbook or the fashion spot or something. They're all the same- people who have failed in fashion so bitch about it to other people who have failed in fashion (or if they do work in fashion, it's an unpaid internship at GUESS.) So anyway, I imagine this disheveled fashionista with hair that has roaches crawling through it, cellulite on her thighs, and her face is a mish-mash of various skin-care products that she got for free from taking the "Free Samples" at department stores, until she became too ragged for even a department store; and now critiques Margiela's latest collection on the street with her other failed fashionista buddies (nevermind the fact that Margiela is right- at this moment- on a Caribbean island lounging beside a pool painted white). She writes "KARL, KARL, KARL" on the walls- and stalks anybody who happens to have white hair. She's the sort of person who hides in the garbage bin which models throw up into, just waiting to get a glance of me. A glimpse.
Suffice to say, I'm disturbed. Do you see me all the time like you see dead people? "I SEE KARL LAGERFELD EVERYWHERE."
Of course you do, dear.

By 2AM I was over that. There's probably a million of those crazy homeless fashion ladies. I cannot remember what I did at 2AM.

3AM I found Anna passed out- regular readers will know that this is no surprise. I found a draft Vogue article on her chest. So I read it. And quelle horror, it was about the recession! It's very sick, I think. All these people talking about losing money. Let's be serious here: I blow my nose on Balenciaga blouses. Where is this recession? It must be some sick sort of joke, I thought to myself.

At 4AM I saw lines of people pouring out of some place with "UNEMPLOYED" stamped on their foreheads. Hmm.

I decided to take part in this joke- and it's obviously a practical joke. I went out on my balcony, papal-like; began to join in:
Me: Ohhh look at me! I am so unemployed! And unfortunate! [I wave around a Chanel jacket at this point]. Oh boo hoo! I was just fired at now I can only afford five butlers!

They are starred at me strangely and I went back inside.