Stalkers and Prada

Yestderday I flew back to Paris to evade Rachel Zoe. She began throwing rocks at my window, and then started singing a love song. Very badly. Outside, attempting to play guitar.

Now I'm in my house in the closet having tea with Anna, and it appears I have another stalker: Victoria Beckham.

She's banging, banging on my door. Screaming in that little faux-British accent (I know she's British. But the British are simply more chic that her, hmmmm?): "KARL! KARL LET ME IN! I LOVE YOU NOT MARC!"

I shall have to do something about this. I'm telling an assistant to ring Marc but Marc isn't replying. Doesn't Victoria have a husband or something? She's demode- that's what Anna and I are saying over our tea and (Chanel stamped) biscuits.
Anna: Oh, she is so demode
Me: I know hmm?
Anna: Oh, I spoke to some interns the other day. For that magazine I do.
Me: Oh?
Anna: Hilarious. The bowing, Karl, the bowing.
Me: I hate interns. So demode.

I'm sorry- actually I'm not. But I have to go anyway since that horrible homeless Prada person is ringing. "She's intellectual" I hear the voice of the so-called fashion critics. No, she simply steals homeless people's clothes and clothes out of those bins that you put your old clothes into.

Rachel Zoe

I am going to be honest here: I did not know who Rachel Zoe is until I she started ringing me a month ago.
Stalker.

Example of messages:
"Hiii Karl. Just wondering if you want to have lunnnch today? Call me"
"Karl, Karl hun, I'm doing this this thing at Halston. Um, you wanna meeet up??"
"Karl. I love you. I just needed to say that. And that we should do a TV show together"
"Karl, I really do love you. Every night I bow down to you"
"Karl, are you a good kisser??"
"I know you want me as much as I want you- Karl baby"
"TV show? You never emailed me back? Love you ex-oh-ex-oh"
(Singing. Badly)"I---I loveeeeee yooouuu Karllll!"

And then it got worse last week when she found my apartment in New York and started tapping on the windows. Like, a quick tap and then she darts away. Her eyes, hmmm? Her eyes. They're like that of a model after I tell her she is not the right weight. They're wide open, like I poured coffee right into her eyes and bloodshot and just "rwwwaarrrr". Like animals.

Last night she threw a rock through my window. Where's Hedi? Where's my assistants!

Doesn't she know that rocks are so demode? She can have a free Chanel pin (even better than the safety pin, hmmmmmm?) if she goes away.
Doesn't she have any people? Can't they- go put her in a wardrobe somewhere?

I'm gay Rachel. And I don't like you anyway. I only go out with fashion people, hmmm?

Caption for picture: "Oooooh! I'm such a hippy! Ooh. And a freaky stalker. And I'm so demode"