last week was a BIG one and my balls still hurt from it. i got to see the SS ’09 line at reiss and LET ME TELL YOU it’s a gem. i finally want to start wearing the clothes. too bad i’ll be gone by the time all the good shit comes out.
the real drama/splendor of the week comes from the event we had with GRAZIA magazine on wednesday. everything was great at around 745–people were coming in, having a few free cocktails and spending drunk dollars on okay-looking things. great. THEN at around 930, when all the customers had left, my co-workers and i discovered that there were about 30 bottles of unopened champaign just sitting around, waiting to be guzzled down. AND GUZZLE WE DID. after i drank my weight in champaign, i headed out for a smoke, but not before drinking from a random bottle of vodka…that’s where it gets blurry. things i remember doing/saying:
–‘let’s get the fuck outta here, motherfucks’
–moving to the bar down the street and falling a little bit
–‘oh my god, i love you guys so much’
–‘NO VALERIE, I DON’T WANT FUCKING MCDONALD’S. I’M PRETTY’
and then…NOTHING. the next day i woke up on my polish supervisor’s couch.
AGA(in a robe):Matt, darling, we is leaving in an hour.
ME(in my underwear):oooooooooooooooooooh my god
i thought i had sex with her for a minute. then i looked at my clothes from the night before and realised that aga just took pity on me because CLEARLY i was vomitting everywhere. and then i had to go to work, which was just awful. i was throwing up all day and randomly passing out on piles of clothes. i haven’t been that hung over since i got kicked out of kappa kappa gamma’s formal for throwing up on people. ug.
but really, it was all worth it. despite the fact that everyone keeps asking if i feel better and keeps giving advice like, ‘maybe you shouldn’t drink. ever’ i think i really bonded with my co-workers and made some flimsy friendships that should last until i leave london in february. and isn’t that what partying is really all about?
’till next time, darling.