Social Media Update
Has been rammed with status updates re the contents of certain fash type’s ‘survival kits’.
FYI these people have spent the past week or so sitting on their arses at fashion shows, not in Basra.
I still do not really understand this Instagram thing and find it very dull. I am always losing followers on this, and I can only apologise if people don’t appreciate the constant pictures of my dog and the crap cakes I bake. To be honest I don’t really want to look at pictures of your shepherd’s pie either…
Has also been too dull for words due to endless fash week tweets and, endless people retweeting those tweets.
Actual comment I read on twitter that sent me over the edge:
‘You see the way he did that shoulder, I’ve never seen a shoulder like that’
One word; ‘Dickhead’
Bubette at nursery school update
I’m asked to read Bubette’s nursery school progress report. Whilst the teacher pops off to photo copy something I scan through it really, really quickly to check there is no mention of Bubette saying ‘For fucks sake’ . This is Bubette’s favourite current catchprase. I’m choosing to ignore it and hope she’ll get bored with it and stop – just like when she went through that other awful phase of actually liking Mr Tumble.
Bubette tries ballet. The rather uptight, stiff old ballet teacher recommends to me that Bubette doesn’t continue with this, because ‘all she wants to do is jump around to the music.‘ I reply in my most patronising PR voice that
‘She’s 3, it’s nursery school, not Black Swan’
The School Run: a mother in one of those odious Joules gilets actually gives my Balenciaga sweatshirt a withering look. I’ve really no more to add to this statement, except that she also has a ‘Keep on Hunting’ sticker on her car. So, to summarise, hunting combined with Joules – I doubt her and me would have been friends anyway…
A headhunter calls me from Paris. Ooooohhhhh lala. He’s French and taking himself terribly seriously. He’s banging on about fashion. It’s 6.45pm, I’ve told Bubette to get ready for her bath. As I’m schmoozing said headhunter and trying to sound knowledgeable and efficient I see Bubette taking her clothes off. The headhunter is talking about ‘luxury brands’ ‘new ceos’ ‘worldwide communications director needed’ I’m saying key words that I think sound professional like ‘Wow’, ‘Great’ and ‘Yeah‘. Then he asks me if I’d like to return to work full time yet, and what I think of the brand. I’m about to answer when I hear ‘Oh look Mummy.’ I turn and see Bubette standing next to me excitedly showing me the skid marks in her knickers.
Excuse the pun, but ‘you cannot make this shit up’. This, reader is the sort of brutal reality that is never mentioned in those mothers juggling work with parenting features. You didn’t think of that scenario Cherie Blair, did you?
Anyway if I do take the job I will prob have to perform it in a white vest just like Bruce Willis in DieHard, because from what I’ve read on Facebook fashion is a very, very tough world to survive in these days.