Saturday, October 15, 2005

Hang the DJ

Men in Dinner Jackets become strange at 2am. They roar, stampede and rampage through a hotel bar like randy cattle, with dangling cumerbunds, loose ties and wandering hands.

I had my bum pinched twice by strangers. I was invited to get into a fight. Someone offered to arm wrestle me for one of my cigarettes. Someone else kept on trying to force money into my hand.

The women meanwhile sailed through like nervous galleons, still looking amazing, but with hair gradually getting lower.

Anyway, I left the Holland House at 2am, before it sank into the ground. And, if I lingered any longer, I'd have had to help carry an orchid into a taxi.

Biking home drunk and wearing a DJ was going very well... until I passed a gay club. What, after all, could be the harm in a quick last drink when I looked so fine?

I left, 10 minutes later, having met Francis, a fashion stylist for Marie Claire, on a trip to find industrial wasteland to shoot shoes in. He was staying in the hotel I'd just left.

He was as mad as anyone who works in fashion. His room was a disaster of clothes, magazines, and expensive moisturiser. Although 29, he was addicted to botox, drinking and shopping.

His grasp of conversation was erratic. "So, you work for the media? Hmmn. What do you think of the Kate Moss thing? I love her, but she's dressing so severely now. Do you really think that tweed is coming back? They keep saying that about the 80s. I got my underwear on ebay - it's vintage 70s addidas, but I wear it over a sixty quid prada thong - isn't that just mad? Anyway, did you ever see Fashion TV? They used to have catwalk shows on a loop. I loved it, but it's gone now. This music is from a catwalk show from a Swedish designer. They say that that Swedes are the new Germans. But not for shoes. Anyway -"

He glanced at the bottle that room service had brought up - "oh, this isn't Veuve Cliquot - " and dropped his cigarette into it.

In the morning, I stole his shampoo.

I found my bike on the street where I'd left it, goodie bag still intact (Pudsey pencil, two TARDIS phone flashers and a book by Sarah Kennedy about toddlers).

The sun was shining, it was a glorious morning, and I was wearing a dinner jacket. I went to Iceland and bought pizza for breakfast.


Broadband Ian said...

I read entries like this, and really begin to suspect I got the wrong life in the birthing lottery.

Lee said...

Oh! Someone else's shampoo falls foul of your grubby light-fingered antics.