First of all, you are fabulous. I know you know that. But I had to say it. Not even those real housewives could keep my attention for nine straight hours. The only person who could even come close to occupying my time and helping me waste away a bad headache is Jeff Lewis. Are you guys friends? That would be bananas.
Because I spent several hours “with” you this week, I feel like I am now in a position to talk to you. Like a friend. And tell you some things that bother me. Because, of course, some things do. And, as your friend, I feel like you should know.
- Let’s start with the company you keep. Taylor. Bad attitude. With a capital B. Speaking of capital Bs, she is one. Some people say you are, but I’d argue you deserve to be. Taylor? Not so much. She has a job anyone would kill for yet she treats you with disrespect. (What was with her refusing to work upstairs with your homely assistant, Marissa, and moving her desk and Brad’s from the loft to the main room? Completely ridiculous. But way to stand firm on that one.) Sure, she pulls through in the end and gets the Dior dress delivered, or she calls Brad and makes nice after she makes him cry, but come on. Is she that indispendable? I say stick with Brad. Love. Him. She does have a good eye, though…maybe she should use that to do something about that hair of hers. And now we can move on to Rodger. Really, Rach? For someone as smart and sophisticated as you are, who spends day upon day with the fashion elite, many of whom include non-heterosexuals, how can you not see that your husband might prefer men to you. Or, frankly, anyone to you. And what’s with the extra letter in his name? Get rid of it please. Thanks.
- Love your style and wish I could pull it off. But, there’s a little too much fur. And animal print.
- Brad is pretty awesome. He’s useful, he has a good attitude, and who doesn’t love the bow ties and cardigans?
- Where does your daily Venti Starbucks come from? You’re always drinking it in your robe, and I seriously doubt Rodger actually gets up, gets dressed, heads to bux, and brings it home for you. And, what exactly is it that you drink?
- Stop being so dramatic. How many times can you actually die over something within an hour long montage of your life? You died over a vintage Cartier necklace. You died over a vintage Dior dress.
- I’m not going to knock you down for being thin. You work crazy hours, you don’t eat during the day, you just drink Starbucks (but, again, would really like to know what’s in that coffee cup)…your emaciated look is to be expected. But please promise me you’ll try to eat a cheeseburger. Or something.
- Kind of funny that you always want your clients to own their look when everything that they are wearing is borrowed. Don’t get me wrong, I’d totally own it if someone let me wear a Chanel dress personally altered by Karl Lagerfeld and some hot Louboutin heels, just making note of the irony.
- Is Zoe your last name? Your middle name? And why is it pronounced “Zo” and not “Zo-ey”? What’s Rodger’s last name?
- How did it feel to be called Raisin Face and Lettuce Cup by Nicole Richie? Are you guys friends again? Do you credit her with your burgeoning career? No one knew who you were before your famous feud, wouldn’t you say?
- Do you smoke? Because you look like you do.
- Do you promote the wearing of open toed boots?
- What’s with the muumus? You’re really attentive to what you eat (a little bird told me that you whisper your order of three spears of asparagus nightly at Chateau, I mean, how many fewer calories can you eat in a day) (or should I say don’t eat) yet you still choose very unform fitting dresses–totally different than the slim silhouettes you choose for Annie and Eva, among others. I think you might have some serious body issues. Maybe devote some of the time you spend pushing the wisps of hair to the side of your face (you know what I’m talking about) into some therapy?
I don’t want to make you cry, so that’s enough for now. And, really, I think you are bananas. For real.