Swide Magazine by Dolce&Gabbana

I try to remember what I can of Mr.G's birthday and the Christmas party rules are revealed

Apologies that it has taken me all week to write exactly what happened at Mr.G’s birthday ...I think you may all sympathise with me after reading the title of today's entry, and perhaps if you will, before you read on, think back to a stituation/christmas party/leaving drinks when you maybe had just a little too much bubbly and danced in front of the boss. Now imagine that scene - only with the added humiliation of a wig, and doing it all in front of one of the world's famous designers and my beloved Mr. G. Needless to say muse status has been postponed for a while - I don't imagine Sophia Coppola has ever danced to Banarama in the way I managed to do last Friday.

As is fitting, exactly a week after Mr. G's birthday party I feel slightly more inclined to reveal the few details that my alcohol soaked pea-brain can recall. As you can see from my well captured photograph (the scary part is I actually thought I was sober at this point, when this slightly blurred picture obviously tells another story???!) the evening started off civilised enough with a chic dinner (note our painting on the wall) and very sexy pin-up ladies serving drinks.

The trouble actually started when the ever so clever D-J started playing infectious disco (I’m in my very early thirties and thus allowed to like disco) changing it every ten minutes and thus causing hysteria resulting in forkfuls of risotto being waved in the air. I believe at one point, I actually stood up between the antipasti and the prima for a wiggle – put it this way I won’t be going anywhere near the press office/graphics department for a while.

Dinner over, Mr.G’ was blindfolded and taken to a basement – (stay with me, there is a happy ending) – where downstairs we found AN ENTIRE DANCEFLOOR and an assortment of wigs. A real disco ending. Needless to say I am refusing to show anyone the wig pictures – on the upside, there are certain colleagues of note whom I will never look at again in the same light during meetings ;-) You KNOW who you are that’s all I’m saying.

As I continue to recover from my party behaviour - the H.R office today sent an official letter re the Christmas party. PARANOIA immediately set in - was the very formal letter sent as a result of me (and the others who were sat at my table....again, you know who you are!!) last Friday???

The strangest part about the letter is that we are not allowed to bring friends but may bring a parent??? The thought of my mother in the same room as Mr.G makes me feel drunk already.

They tried to make me go to rehab at behindtheseamsgirl@gmail.com

Another episode of trying to high at

http://www.swide.com/luxury-magazine/en/History/

Behind-The-Seams/Trying-to-Get-High/2008/06/20/

 

 

 

TAGS: behind the scenes mr.g sophia coppola muse party christmas birthday designer disco h.r rehab high