Last week in Los Angeles was a lesson in extremes for me. On Sunday, after back-to-back champagne brunches, Scott and I dragged ourselves over to the closing festivities of MJ’s, the gay dance bar in Silver Lake, because we thought we’d regret not being there that last day to say farewell. As it turned out, there was no one there we knew or would even want to talk to, really. I mean, even the go-go boy was chubby. But the next night, I was sitting at the best table in the lovely and rather exclusive Tower Bar being treated to great wines and perfectly prepared scallops in truffle oil. Weird, right?
It’s a bit like that in fashion these days, as well. On Wednesday people snap things up without even looking at the price tags and then, come Thursday, it’s crickets.