Day 85

It’s fashion week and it’s right now. On the door you stand, poised clipboard, broad smile and chipped teeth. I tell you how beautiful I think Liberty is, the fourth floor regally looking down with a timber gaze. I could also tell you what I know about this department store: made from the timber of two ships, bombed for its Rushdie books once, tiers that look into a central interior courtyard. However, none of this is vaguely or voguely interesting. There are nude photographs to see, wine to sip, women with elongated limbs, anguished eyes and puffed fringes to sidestep.