Thanks to Red Carpet Fashion Awards, I had a fabulous day of shopping with gorgeous bloggers Sharon Rose and Times of Glory. RCFW tipped us off to a charity sale of designer castoffs by Trudie Styler (aka Mrs. Sting). Bargain-shopping diva Sharon had planned out a whole itinerary but when I sent her the info about Trudie’s sale, she thought we should stop by there first. We did so well that we didn’t have to go anywhere else! Among Sharon’s finds were a Chanel jacket for 100 pounds and a Pucci top for 10 pounds. My purchases included a Christian Dior leather jacket for 50 pounds and a white lace Dolce & Gabbana coat for 100 pounds. I also got a red Zac Posen gown and a black Versace top for laughably low prices. We lugged away our haul in Harrods bags.
We only made it as far as the pub down the street where we drank lager and gloated until Times of Glory called from the nearest Tube station. We fetched her and went right back to Mrs. Sting’s sale, where ToG got, among other items, these unworn, feathered Patrick Cox shoes for 10 pounds.
I’ve always felt very close to Mrs. Sting because I see her at least once a day in Sting’s We’ll Be Together video, which is in constant rotation on the ’80s station on the TV at my local gym. I love it when she gives drunk Sting a slap and runs away with cuddly, oversize-sweater Sting. But I never thought I’d be wearing her clothes!
We continued our rockstar-lover lovefest at Harvey Nichols, where I found a pair of black sequined pants by L’Wren Scott, the stylist GF of Mick Jagger. They were originally priced at 2100 pounds. (Hello! People think MY stuff is expensive? At least if you melt my jewelry down, the gold is worth nearly $1000 an ounce. Last I checked, an ounce of black sequins had a resale value of, oh, about a nickel.) But the pants were insanely discounted, so I got them and then we all adjourned to the cafe to celebrate with a pitcher of Pimm’s.
Then it was off to the restaurant Axis to dine with MrB.
I feel slightly guilty for teasing Trudie and L’Wren about being Mrs. This and Mrs. That, because I don’t care for it when people describe me as “MrB’s wife.” I especially dislike it when they call me by his last name, which is not my legal name. On the other hand, if I have to suffer, why shouldn’t these ladies? At least they can go home and cry on a bag of money, as Ray Romano would say. I have to go home and cry on a pair of black sequined trousers, which aren’t very absorbent at all.