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By Kate Lalic

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Friday night lights in America
Lovers’ night in Paris
New York Jets are fighting for victory on the flat screen behind me.
It’s a cold stormy night, the frosted bay window overlooks 5th avenue and the Pulitzer Fountain. This timeless hotel is overcrowded at this time of year. Our Plaza Suite is filled with sparkly dresses and expensive rosé. I’m sitting at the tip of the master’s bed, invaded by tons of duck down pillows. The suite smells like old money confined in a Gucci leather wallet. Mr. White…. Will he come tonight?
A hush fell over the room. Changing my mind over and over again, I can’t decide what to wear. She once told me: Go big or go home. So, I follow her philosophic fashion statement. I grab my gold Michael Kors sequined dress. It still smells like Barney’s back store.
All day we wandered in the city, shopping at Barney’s and giggling just like old times. We had afternoon tea at the historic Palm Court. Two little girls trapped in grown up bodies.

Tonight were putting on a show. It’s LV’s birthday bash.
She’s as crazy as me. As bubbly as MOËT,
As perky as the Eiffel Tower, as demented as Lohan and she doesn’t give a PHOQUE.
Silently, I look at her.
A tall young woman stands before me, her slim figure reflects in the brass vintage mirror. Wearing her fresh out of the box Louboutins, she is six feet tall.
Wanna ride on her roller coaster? She’s a thrill seeker, driven to behave irrationally due to excitement. Her charismatic laugh always captures attention.
Under her unreal long lashes she hides, wanting more and more. Her nostalgic grin emulates her deserted «never full» Louis bag.

Son identité nébuleuse s’accroche à la soie ivoire de sa robe Hervé Léger. À la recherche de la perfection, elle rêve de vivre à la Monroe. Cette starlette est demeurée éternellement jeune au creux de nos mémoires. Du haut de ses escarpins dorés, je vis son visage poudré s’illuminer. À ce moment, je revis la ballerine d’autrefois en petits chaussons saumon, ses longs cheveux collés à ses épaules nues. Ce jour là, elle m’offrit sa main lorsque je tombai du haut de mes pointes. Un cœur d’or se cacha dans cette poupée de porcelaine pourtant si fragile.
Son regard ténébreux m’accorda un sourire. LV s’approcha de moi et serra mes doigts. De l’autre main, elle agrippa M. Vuitton. Elle sait qu’avec le temps, son sac sera toujours auprès d’elle. Elle sait qu’avec le temps les gens disparaissent sans au revoir…

Luv Lalic.

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About The Kate Lalic

EIC of the Kate Lalic Blog and Brands. Passionate about traveling, fashion and posh lifestyle. The writer of the upcoming book Kate Lalic Tales.