And then the show was over and everyone got up and left. I left really quickly, and I took another Fiber One bar for the road. It is a long road, and I guess we’re allcarrying the Fashion Week fire - by which I mean we will soon turn to eating people, not Fiber One bars. To carry the Fashion Week fire, remember:
Outside I saw Tinsley Mortimer. She was wearing a neon yellow skirt that I guess we will all be wearing in a year or two. Because we’ll be part of a clone army.
I like Tinlsey Mortimer, not because I’ve ever met her, or because I love blonde socialites, but because I liked her book, Southern Charm. That book seemed to betray such a desperate longing for people to be nice to one another, as well as the fact that Tinsley Mortimer very, very clearly believes that Heaven is located at 1 West 58th street. This may be the only time Tinsley is grouped with Hemingway, but what the hell. I thought it was a terrific book.
I like Tinsley. I like her because I think, she too is trying to figure out how to make people like her. She reminds me of a small creature with large eyes – a bewigged axolotl maybe – who seems to be shimmying about wanting to be loved.
Whenever I see her I always find myself hoping that life works out for her, whatever that means for her. I hope she goes and plays elephant polo while eating $1,010 worth of ice cream. That seems like it would be something.
I thought about going up to her and saying “I liked your book,” but, you know, I didn’t. I play it real cool.