Is There No End To The Glamour?
You see, I think it’s essential that I look flawless whilst self-consciously Being Nice to 300 other women in close quarters, particularly when the majority of those women rank somewhere between “Has Never Heard Of” to “Despises” on the Acceptance of Anna Scale.
Besides, the maintenance of my impeccably glamorous image demands an astute attention to detail. This is why it’s been six months or so since I last went to see Sean, and my hair has become a total disaster. You can see what a disaster it is in this picture that Mr. Right-Click took of me a couple weeks ago. I was trying to teach Mini how to ice skate, which was also a disaster for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I don’t even know how to ice skate. I’m from California. We don’t ice skate.
Anyway, see how dingy my hair had gotten? Well, luckily, Sean had a slot available, and I started filming once my hair had reached a more acceptable level of “natural” blondeness.
There’s not a ton of stuff afoot in the gossip department this week with Sean, except to say that he just got back from New York Fashion Week, but does not know who won Project Runway, he’s got a magazine cover shoot coming up, and there’s some top secret project that he’s working on with his business partner, Frank. Speaking of Frank, he’s now cutting all of the Kardashian’s hair now. (Yes, all of them. Even the Mom.) I debated about going for a low-hanging Kardashian hair joke — because isn’t there a joke there, somewhere? Isn’t there always a viable Kardashian joke to be had, in all that life manages to throw one’s way? — but Frank is so professional that I felt I had to bite my tongue. I did ask if they bring the cameras into the hair studio, and Sean said no. (See that? Only I get to film inside the hair salon. Chew on that, Khloe Kardashian!)
After I got my hair cut I went over to Fred Segal and had a look around. I saw a white wife-beater type tank top that had “What would Karl Do?” scrawled across the front of it. It cost sixty dollars. I thought about telling the Fred Segal employee that Karl would probably laugh about it, because what a great example of commodity fetishism twice removed, eh? The commodity of the name placed on top of a commodity, and then made into an even more fetishized commodity by virtue of the fact that it’s marketed at Fred Segal? Eh? But then I thought she might really think that I didn’t know which Karl they were talking about, and also, I didn’t want to talk to her, so I left.
And now I’m finishing my packing for H-Town and the totally drama-free conference with the Campfire girls of Sparkliest Sunshine that will be occurring there this week! Wish me luck, kids . . . I think I’m going to need it.