Saturday, September 25, 2010


I would like to wish one of my most devoted followers, Fury, happy birthday. Now- I do not do this very often. Part of why is because I find age demode, and birthdays even more demode- a pastime of the middle class. You will note that nobody in the upper classes or the working classes ever has a birthday- the upper class is too busy eating cake and the working class is too busy making the cake! However, I will make an exception for Fury. It would be impossible to find a more wonderful woman, unless one looked to my dear mother, who is currently dead. I presume she will stay in this state for a while- but it's hard to tell with her.

Anyway- happy birthday, Fury Rothtelstien. While I cannot condone the practice of birthdays, I can nod my head to you in some degree, while sketching next season's Chanel collection and eating food from Nobu. Liquified Nobu in the form of Pepsi Black (the great joke with my participating in the Coca Cola bottle thing being I actually drink Pepsi Black, whilst claiming on this web blog that I drink diet Coke- it has more of a ring, no?)


Miscellaneous said...

My Dearest Karl,

I do not age as much as acquiesce another year. I let it wash over me like a puff of smoke. The say my look is timeless - this is either a very good or a very bad thing. Some day I hope to rival your delectably toxic levels of botox to reach that literal timelessness that you have achieved.

I sincerely hope the angle of which you nod is acute as opposed to obtuse, like a geisha. I imagine you have only so much approval for a year, and I am delighted that you have assigned some to me. Anna, I'm sure, will be mortified.

Many waif-ish kisses,


Ваши труды великолепны, они наполняют идеями и вдохновением!))

Rose said...

Personally I think all social classes celebrate their birthday. Is not, therefore, the fact of celebrate that is demode, but the fact of the presence of the cake, being replaced by caviar in the upper class and tofu in the working class, but it's still a celebration.
No other reason than the correction, a greeting.

Anonymous said...

I do not celebrate birthdays; those are so demode and last season. Instead I celebrate a birthnight, and grow a year younger in the style of Benjamin Button.