the thing with having-been-ill-previously is that one is Always sort of looking sideways (in an attractive way, not cross-eyed) or behind one (and not in a swively head way – metaphorically speaking) to see if There is Something Else on the Horizon.
of course the Plus Side – and there is one – is that one is also Terribly Grateful for one’s Good Health at this very moment.
but when one is shown into yet another room in drab beige decor and told to “put this on and tie it up at the back” one does a Little Sigh.
what she does like are silver sparkly shoes.
so we persuaded her to wear them to the hospital and the other people in the waiting room Enjoyed them too and gave her a little smile which is Rather reassuring in times of stress.
why were we there?
due to the fair skin and irish parentage of who-we-are-in-RL (and the fact that during the 70s one didn’t know about sunscreen for children *looktocamera*) Several (actually FIVE) Millicent Mole(s) have been removed in years gone past (1998, 2004 and 2012 if you’d like to know – in three cities which is actually terribly glamorous – London, Los Angeles and Manhattan).
luckily none of them had “C” powers when examined on a white (was it white?) Slab in the Lab.
the lady doctor (so Modern, as William would say) looked all over us with a contraption that appeared to have a green neon light emitting diode with a very highly concentrated magnifying glass – it was ever so much fun (and no, we didn’t giggle, we were very pleasant and stayed quiet until it was all over).
but we did notice that we felt a little lost afterwards while waiting for the Verdict.
“we’ll monitor That One”
and that was it, for now.
and we left and went back to enjoying memories of the walk yesterday in Beverly Hills.
there were Roses and sunlight kisses on stone and ironwork gates and a tinkling fountain and celebrities behind closed doors reading scurrilous Jackie Collins novels and trying to work out if Mr. X was their agent or their manager or god forbid, their ex-husband.
or so we i m a g i n e.
one never (quite) knows.
although we have been inside some of these Beverly Hills mansions but they keep the Jackie Collins with the pages turned down in a secret drawer upstairs in the boudoir.
isn’t it beautiful here?
can we share something with you?
it’s not necessarily personal – we’re just sort of shy to do so –
you’re most kind.
here’s the thing.
we were SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS MOVIE:
if you’re not familiar with the lady in question (you need to say “question” in a french/russian accent to be absolutely correct here) – Carine Roitfeld is Editor of CR and was the grande dame at Paris Vogue prior to setting out her own shingle.
what could go wrong with a documentary like this? Fashion! Beautiful People! Tom Ford! Paris! Milan! Magazines! Photographers! Models!
and we say this with love (considering the last day job).
Putting out a magazine is only drama for those putting out the magazine.
it does *not* a documentary make.
and also, there’s nothing clever about attempting to show the reality of what-it-is-like-in-fashion.
people don’t want reality.
they want the aching pulsating dream of sensuous nights in bronze skin with a silk sheet somewhere naughty in morocco with a photographer arriving on the morning plane, the models in some discotheque down by the beach messing up their hair, the production manager’s gone AWOL and the Editor has collapsed in her room in floods of tears and has to be sedated by the local doctor.
that’s what they want.
and everything delicious well-lit – not Cinéma vérité, darlings.
no. no. no. no. no. and thrice no.
you know the one person who understood this perfectly throughout the Entire Documentary, don’t you?
now he was magnificent.
which is perfect.