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I want to go to a party as a real person
If I count the number of people that offer their love/jealously/desire to do my job - well we'll be here all day. The main reason for the job envy appears to stem from my party invites, people are so shallow. Yes, the whirlwind that is luke-warm champagne, strange yogurt canapes and spicy crackers for dinner whilst being crushed against a wall feigning conversation with an A-lister strangely seems to appeals to people.
"All the parties you must go to they gush.." as I wearily nod my head thinking ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?
No, I'll let you into a little secret - if there's one thing the fashion crowd desire more than a decent salary/pension/job satisfaction it's a party invitation, and one addressed to them. You see as part of the fashion deal yes, we get to go to loads of parties - every night if we so desired, but not you see in the capacity as ourselves. No, the party deal for the fashion crowd is always on the proviso one has to work the door, write about it, interview someone, photograph it, twitter it, represent someone or network someone. I hate to break the news but "a party" in fashion-land is for anything but party.
Whilst holding onto that thought - the phone went, extremely rare in an office that communicates only virtually through blackberries and Skype. Cue lots of high-pitched voices and Facebook pages closing as the phone ringing inevitably signals Mr.G's assistant on the other end.
Mr.G's office are in fact the only people in the building to ever call our direct-line (and no I'm not revealing its number) and as such we've now christened it the Gabbanaphone - our very own batphone of fashion. Could a real party invitation be on the end of it we wonder??
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