hermes gallery

During the week, my fingernails are Limo-Scene (the perfect pink with enough white to make me look slightly tan), and in winter I’m always Wicked (vampy red) toes, summer I’m Fiji (opaque pale pink which, no matter how white I really am, makes me look tan). A woman’s nail color choice speaks volumes about who she is. Women who choose “I’m Not a Waitress Red” usually own leopard print panties. That’s right, they’ve got class; all of it low. Girls who opt for “Leave it to Diva” should leave themselves at home on priciple alone. And when “Red Carpet Glam” meticulously coats her nails you know she’s much more LongChamp than Yves Saint Laurent. Duh.


Though I’m coated in Limo-Scene, I’ll be taxi cabbing it to the Hermes Gallery tonight.
Yes, Hermes has a gallery, and I was invited to ent-ah. Everything in Hermes costs an arm, leg, and a torso, so what could be in their gallery? Ah, Rene Burri’s photographs are displayed on the fourth floor. Oh, photographs. Now it makes sense.

I’ll be donning my camera for cameos… though how fantastic would it be if I replaced the Nikon Digital black and yellow camera strap with a silk hermes scarf. Actually, not fantastic at all. How trying-way-too-hard-so-get-out-of-our-party you Coach masquerading in Chanel clothing. See you can’t wear Hermes to an Hermes event. It’s like wearing fur to the zoo. It’s just not done. You might as well be wearing “Fondola Gondola”… social suicide.



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