The average Saturday morning - an appointment with Anna Wintour and a lifesaving task to carry-out.
In fashion - it's the “fundamental” little things that matter; orchids or lilies, who sits where, scented candles, and of course the after thought of how in fact to record the event for all of eternity.
Saturday morning - BIG important press conference and I was given the lovely task of recording it all. This in itself is a nightmare waiting to happen - dreams of not pressing the record button, batteries dying, and the volume being turned down - you get the picture. After a night of tossing and turning, I woke-up on Saturday morning reassuring myself I was in fact capable of pressing record on a tape-recorder at the age of thirty "something".
Arriving at the conference I was immediately placed in front of the table at which Ms Wintour and the designers were to sit at during the presentation, and was of course when things turned ever so slightly embarrassing.
Taking my “position”, the entire room was asked to take their seats - filling the room with an eerie silence and of course all eyes immediately upon me, who was standing quite bizarrely at the front of the room as if I was about to do something.
The audience of course remained staring at me all the while as I was frantically pacing up and down in a (and perhaps the only time in life I will say this) to hear the click of Anna Wintour's heels which would signal the time to hit record.
The click eventfully happened and I stooped - yes stooped in manner of a hunchback to the table where I laid the recorder if front of Ms Wintour which needless to say received a suspicious glance from her and yet another frightened look from Mr.G.
I then proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes sweating as to whether I’d actually pressed record in my panic.
Fashion = Glamour.
Xanax wanted at firstname.lastname@example.org
Other moments when I've frightened Mr.G www.swide.com/Behind-The-Seams/Smile-at-me-please-Mr-G