Frankly, I got a little bit bored watching the models. They played some song that had lyrics about how a man’s parents would like you because you are “fucking lovely.” It sounded like the kind of song I’d listen to on the treadmill, so I sincerely wish I had paid more attention. I started looking at other people in the audience and making up little stories about how they were marginally famous. Would you like to see them? I took some pictures for you!
I thought this woman was so perfectly dressed, but she did not smile the entire time, even when I tried to wave at her:
I think she is a fashion editor at Vogue Italia who has made great strides in her career despite having the same disability as that girl on that one episode of Boston Legal.
Then there was this girl who wore heart shaped glasses, and did not look up from her phone once:
I think she had a recording device in the glasses and illegal, pirated copies of the show are going to be all over the streets of Bombay by tomorrow morning.
And then I became obsessed with this lady, because she looked so icy and Nordic, like a strong boned aging Grace Kelly who a film noir director would have just loved:
I’m pretty sure she is undead, but she is really careful about it, and none of her parts have fallen off.
And, oh, I almost forgot, I took a picture of one lady eating outside at the cafe before going in:
Isn’t she marvelous? She has seven harem boys and all of them are named “Bruno” because I think it’s a funny name. She pronounces it “Bah-run-oh.”
But this lady, she was my favorite, because, in addition to being beautiful, she was the only one who looked just plain happy to be there:
I don’t know a damn thing about who she is, but I am pretty sure she didn’t starve herself on steamed broccoli. She just looked happy and fresh and I wanted to run up to her and say “how should a person be?” but that bitch Sheila Heti steals all the good lines.