This morning, I was in the fragile state known as being Gently Hungover. Gently Hungover is what happens after you've spent the whole night previously drinking grown-up red wine and playing grown-up party games with your grown-up friends, who are generally seen as being a positive example on you. No-one got crazy, but things were said and done that, in the context of the evening, were beautiful and pure and true. Tom and I stared longingly into the abyss, and said the words "Jordan Catalano" over and over again. Salt and Alex stared longingly into the abyss and said the words "Final Fantasy" over and over again. The eve was many things to many people.
The next morning, I had a hair appointment, and didn't even realize that I was Gently Hungover/Still Drunk until I was sitting in my stylist's chair with a head full of tinfoil, weeping openly into the stack of old magazines provided for me. When one is Gently Hungover, one feels for frivolous causes in a way otherwise impossible in everyday life. Barn owls are inexplicably depressing. Squirrels are nature's Joan of Arc. A picture of a middle-aged Grace Kelly, wearing a trouser suit, her eyes cast downward while she reclines on a chaise longue, is an ocean of melancholy. Why did you have to die, Grace? Why?
Here is an incomplete list of things that, for better or worse, good or evil, upset me today.
Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone linking arms in New York. So beautiful. So true.
Kate Middleton's plummeting weight and generally miserable expression. So obviously representative of the mounting pressures of being a princess.
Kate Middleton's hair looking distressingly thin. So different from the cascading mane that inspired all of us circa rockin-engagement photo. So obviously representative of the mounting pressures of being a princess.
Pippa Middleton, in general. Surely she must know how useless she is?
Advertisements asking me to adopt a snow leopard. THE SNOW LEOPARDS ARE IN DANGER?
David Beckham hugging any combination of Romeo or Cruz, but not so much Brooklyn. There's something about that kid I just can't get on board with.
Victoria Beckham refusing to put down Harper Seven for any length of time
Victoria Beckham finally being taken seriously as a designer by all the other designers, particularly as I've been working under the assumption that they've been laughing cattily about her behind her back for all these years.
That woman who's married to the prince of Monaco. She can't love him. Can she? He looks like a sociopath and she looks like Katherine Jenkins.
GODDAMNIT, SNOW LEOPARDS