‘Tonight Matthew I’m going to be … Kris Jenner’

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Stars in one person’s eyes is quite enough to be dealing with, but the entire Kardashian/Olivier Rousteing fan club descending on H&M in London is quite another. I’m not sure how ‘Kris Jenner’ these shades make me look, but one thing’s for sure the company I was keeping yesterday made it quite clear that I couldn’t pass for Kendall.

I’ve done over half of these designer at H&M collaborations over the years from Madonna to Wang but the reaction and response to yesterday’s Balmain collection in the Managing Director of H&M UK’s own words was ‘Unprecedented.’

I’d started off slow.  7am found me at Westfield White City where there were not one but two enormous queues, and the coveted wristbands that give you a time slot to shop for 10 minutes had all been handed out already.

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All that glitters

IMG_0581Denise and I hugged goodbye.  “Keep in touch” she said.  “I want an update on Tolga.”

Indeed there could not have been a more appropriate private view in the world to attend other than Lincoln Townley’s ‘W1’ last night.  I wasn’t even sure why I was there – other than a very lovely invite from my celeb cuz who I’m occasionally honoured to accompany on such jaunts. But, at the end of the evening I knew exactly why.

I googled the artist en route to the Royal Academy, only to discover he is way up there with the portrait painters of today.  Hollywood hasn’t escaped him – and recognition is worldly and unanimous. I was particularly struck by his painting of Al Pacino.

Having found the gallery within this noble institution – ‘To the right of the courtyard at the far end’ Bex’s message said – I wandered in to friends and family of the artist and various other showbiz acquaintances.

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Stiletto Biatch

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I’m not prone to swearing.  In fact it takes a lot to get me up there with the best of them.  Notice I’m even unable to say the ‘B’ word as it should be said, but rather a variation of it. However, I suspect another couple of days of this pain will result in me screaming it from the rooftops.

“You don’t like being ‘off games’ do you S?” my companion from the scene of the crime remarked over the telephone.  I reached down towards my left foot, adjusting the pink sock ice pack so delicately placed for maximum coverage.  I wondered where I could get an ice pick to make smaller pieces – heart shaped ice cubes are really not the best.
“No T, I do not” I replied.

The night had started innocently but stridently enough.  Schmancy party-heeled clad, T App’d a black cab. We hopped in as he and Dave began the banter that saw the meter still ‘off’ until half way there. T pointed it out to him,  We watched as he reached up to click the switch, still laughing: “Sorry about that guv” he said, “I just got lost in the moment!”

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From one Garros to another

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“How did you get a name like that?” I asked the main man at the tennis hut, reaching to pour myself a cool drink of water on a morning when the temperature was already 30 degrees.

“Well, ‘Garros’ wasn’t my decision – something to do with my parents” he smiled – a gorgeously tanned face surrounding the kind of dazzling white teeth my dentist would be impressed by.

“Let’s have a photo” I said, commandeering this fine garçon and a fellow pupil prior to our morning lesson.

“Ah, yes, it always start with a photograph” he said, eyes twinkling.

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