I went out tonight smelling like Stella McCartney's mother's roses. (You heard me.) Around my neck was a bit of silk cord and austrian crystals in the form of one hard, brilliant butterfly. Adonis Rose headed up a quintet that played to celebrate my resurrection from the dead. I danced four dances- one wrong. (I hereby do solemnly swear that I will damn well learn the electric slide once and for all. Still- watch me work. I do wrong right.) I made three new friends who promise to get me into trouble. Drank two vodka tonics and two men held my elbow and pulled me close. To kiss my cheek and watch my sparkling eyes while I tried to talk in my soft girl's voice over the easy authority of trumpet, trombone and bass. I don't think it mattered what I said.
I have three new friends who promise to get me into trouble. I am gorgeous when I smile.