We miss you.
We miss your over-the-top, sex-craziness that made Gucci the go-to brand for ladies who had grown tired of being ladylike.
We miss your wildly inappropriate forays into the magazine world. Others have tried, but they can only pale in comparison. Particularly since those others of which we speak reek of desperation and if we weren't sure it was Marc Jacobs, probably Davidoff Cool Water.
We miss that extra-large forehead that may or may not be signs of balding (most likely the former) .
We miss your timeless and effortless personal style. Sure, we've only seen you in a tuxedo or your birthday suit in the past fifteen plus years...but both looks are absolutely flawless.
But most of all, we miss that chest hair. We wanna snuggle our way in their and live til the world collapses all around us and plus-sized models stomp down Parisian catwalks.
You're rich, a complete perv and let's not forget, a fucking genius. Come back to us.
Love,
AnA
P.S. Keep this coming, Uncle Tom...and we'll be sure to do the same. Hiyo!
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