It’s ten am on a glorious NYC Saturday morning. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, you’re at the swanky 230 Fifth Avenue roof terrace for a photo shoot in which you’re playing ‘the Brit Carrie Bradshaw’. Sounds good, right? OK, now pop on five in Louboutins… And a tiny little silk dress. And a big fuck off stupid bow for your hair. Now climb up a FIRE ESCAPE until you’re perched on the top of the gas vent for the entire building and you, three other teetering girls in high heels and the photographer have about twenty square feet to play with before you plummet twenty-one floors to your death.
Fun enough yet? Ok, throw in food poisoning. Oh yes, in between smizing your ass off, you’re also throwing up over the edge of the ‘roof’ you’re standing on which plays havoc with your lip gloss. The make up artist was not happy.
The things we do for publicity. Anyway, those fabulous pictures will be coming to you soon in Look magazine, I imagine we will also make the cover… Sob. On a sidenote, the photographer and make up artist were amazing and I will love them forever.
I’d like to thank the patron saint of girls-who-type-staring-out-the-window-saying-I-Couldn’t-Help-But-Wonder?, Miss Carrie Bradshaw for making all this possible for me. And also for the deluge of Sex and the City-related press releases I’ve received this week. You will be seeing the best of the bunch. I’m going to a screening of the movie on Wednesday night and will be irritatingly tweeting throughout at the PR’s request. No spoilers though, promise.
I bet you can’t wait, right?http://0