It was, I know you must be sure, a fluke. There I was, perusing some vintage tie clips at this little place I found three months ago, quickly grew tired of and whimsically decided was worthwhile again, when who should stomp in, wearing that star jones (do note the small caps, dear) rand of shoe but Mr. Venus? Well, she strong-armed me, and you know how fragile I've been since the, uh, diet, and before I could flicked the wildebeest away with the back of my hand, I had agreed to cart the little tart with me. I tried my dearest, and rather valiantly I might add, to hide her beneath my CHANEL cape, though. Pesky creature can smell the flashbulbs from 300 paces.
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