So exclusive was last night's event that confidentiality agreements were exchanged beforehand.
I know dear readers you may be searching for a happy ending to this story, but before we go any further ladies and gentlemen, please remember this is fashion. There are rarely happy endings in this business, unless of course you count the catwalk. This said - read on with tissues at the ready.
Following a quick change in the loo from black daywear into black eveningwear, off I trotted with a colleague, my faithful cameraman and microphone. First stop was the "bit without champagne" also known as "a presentation". All was going swimmingly well until my colleague decided to take pictures - BIG MISTAKE. Due to the intense security surrounding the launch - she was silently tapped on the shoulder - and escorted out - !!!! Outside in the corridor, her camera was checked and its contents deleted. I dread to think what they would have thought about the contents of my camera after last night's little jaunt to the bar...
After the intensity of listening to "a presentation" for a full hour without a glass of bubbly was over - we headed downstairs for champagne and to ogle Mr.D and Mr.G. Three glasses and four peanuts later - it was time for "dinner" in an intimate candlelit room. As is usual at these types of launches - the likes of moi get to stand aimlessly on the sidelines hoping desperately for a guest to drop out so we can then get a seat at tables strictly reserved for senior members of staff/press/V.I.P's and the beautiful people (determination and lack of shame are essentials in this line of work - read more at www.swide.com/luxury-magazine/en/Faces/Artists/Lesbo-Envy)
Last night however, a 100% attendance ensured I was annoyingly left standing in a corner with my colleague. Both determined to hang on, we dug our heels in (to the sheepskin rugs), in the hope someone may fall off their seat/collapse/be sick so we could hop into their red velvet and gold gilt chairs and nibble on pecorino too.
Sadly, dear readers we've arrived at the part for the tissues. Sadly no-one fell off their heels. Instead a very elegant lady dressed in exactly the type of dress I would buy should I have a zillion Euros wandered over - when she reached us, she appeared a little flustered, "Sorry" she exclaimed, "I thought you were the waitresses."
Discover who she is at http://www.swide.com/luxury-magazine/en/History/Behind-The-Seams
Work as a waitress in a cocktail bar at - email@example.com