And the Oscar Goes To…
I had planned for a calm night.
You need one every now and then when you’re on a schedule like mine. The first sign it’s time to slow down is usually when whatever Opie or Markus casually slips into my hand during the weekend doesn’t quite have the magical effect it used to. That’s probably your body trying to tell you something.
Mine said, “Go shopping,” because I also needed new outfits. Not because the ones I have aren’t fabulous. They are. They make me look exactly like the gorgeous icon I work so hard to be. The problem is that once you reach my level of fame and influence, people start noticing when you wear the same outfit twice.
Yes, yes… sustainability, vintage fashion, saving the planet. I fully support all of that. You lot can handle the environmental part while I continue carrying the burden of looking fabulous. Team effort.
So there I was, wandering through one of those shopping malls that completely reinvents itself every month. Don’t ask me which one. I really have no idea anymore. I was halfway through deciding whether a pair of pants deserved to become part of my wardrobe when my phone buzzed.
Sonance. Apparently they had thrown together a last-minute party. I spotted the word “accidin!” in the announcement, smiled, and added it to the list. You never really know what those spontaneous nights are going to become.
A few minutes later, somewhere between changing from one top into another, right there in the middle of the mall because somehow fitting rooms are too much to ask from these fancy places, my phone buzzed again. Katt.
“You will love this!”
Well… that’s a dangerous message. I paused for a second. The mall would still be there tomorrow. Probably the day after as well. So I threw together something a little more appropriate, got into an Uber and walked right into the middle of… everyone. It looked as if every single person been sitting around waiting for that one notification to appear before dropping whatever they were doing. The place was packed, the beats were going, familiar faces everywhere, and my wonderfully sensible evening had officially disappeared. Not that I was complaining.
The pictures should tell that story much better than I can.
But the best part of the evening wasn’t even the party. I finally solved the Oscar situation.
Now, to be clear, Oscar doesn’t look generic. The man is objectively attractive. The problem is that he bears a remarkable resemblance to someone I photographed months ago at Sunvana. One of those photos ended up hanging in my SL23B exhibition. Naturally, being the social butterfly that I am, I once cheerfully told him, “Hey! I’ve got your picture on the wall!” and he was kind enough to come over and check it out. Standing in front of that wall for a moment, he kindly told me: “That isn’t me.”
I’ve been carrying around the shame of that Oscar snub ever since.
Thankfully I was finally able to set all of that straight and take a decent picture of the man.
So what started as a quiet shopping trip turned into another one of those wonderfully chaotic evenings that you never see coming.
I still need new clothes, though.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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