"Anna, is this really a golden sheep?" I asked.
"No, no, it is imitation golden sheep" she whispered back, as if ashamed of this fact. I wondered where one would obtain an actual golden sheep. I supposed that one had probably been caught by D on one of her safaris- surely the Africans would have one, what with all the exotic creatures in Africa. Zebras and such. The western world has to make do with LA- a veritable hunting ground if you're that way inclined.
Anyway, Anna said that she had been standing there for two days because the photographers won't go away and isn't it rude to leave them?
"So you were just standing there?" I said.
"Oui", she said. "I was once in the middle of the first world war- you know the one?"
"I know the one. Quite well known."
She preened at me. "I'd expect so, if I were in it! Anyway- I stopped this world war one for a whole five days because the photographers wanted to take pictures of me. Pin up, was the phrase they used", she said, pronouncing it "peen up".
"Didn't you get bored?"
"Being bored isn't something people with lower shoulders on their jackets do, Karl."
"This is why I'm glad nobody knows who I am. I am a complete nobody" I said, as two hundred and fifty seven flashes went off.
Note: Readers, you may have notice that I have been quite...apathetic with posts this year. This is because, well, I can do as I please, but also because I am writing a novel. You will be able to purchase it at some point within the next year. I am thinking of titling it "KARL LAGERELD: MEMOIRS OF A DRESSMAKING PROSTITUTE", though I am in no way writing a memoir. But it's a lovely word, isn't it? It sounds like a silk slip. Perhaps I will call it "KARL LAGERFELD: SILK SLIP DRESSMAKING", but then everybody will think I am a company selling silk slips. I have no desire to clothe you in silk slips, I assure you.