I had a funny realisation last night that Garance and Scott aren't my blog friends I haven't met in real life yet. THEY'RE FAMOUS. Although I'm aware of the rough size of their respective international readerships, with the Internet it's hard to tell - in the space of four years, only one of my friends here in London has even heard of The Sartorialist. All day I heard; "You're going to see the What-ist?" "Gar-who?"
My friend and I first trundled along to Garance's opening in Kingly Street with minutes to spare - it was lovely, the T shirts all there, the illustrations and writing on the walls...Garance looking cute, friendly and approachable, but surrounded, and - I was too shy to approach her! Even though I know a couple of people who know her and I could have been all blahblahblah, I'm so and so, I'm a friend of so and so and thingy etc, I suddenly came over all coy. I'm no good at the blahblahblah. Arrghh, sorry, how rude - I go to your cocktail thing, look around, down a Bellini in three seconds then don't even say hi.
Never mind, off to Scott's book signing. I'm sure she'll be along there soon and I'll have a chat to them both together. It'll probably be quite calm in my second home.
The Liberty Men's Department was filled with a snaking queue of hundreds and hundreds of patient people adjusting their hats and lapels in anticipation. Literally, winding through all the departments like an insane fashion conga. I already had my book with me and we managed to ascertain that they had run . out . of . books, had gone and bought up the entire stock from Selfridges but had then run out again, which was causing the massive hold up. We tried to sort of mooch through to wherever Scott was just to wave, say hi, smile, anything, but no.
Because I already had a copy of the book, if I was prepared to go to the back of the queue (which in the intervening 10 minutes had grown alarmingly and now snaked up the stairs and out of the door) I had a slim chance of getting my book signed before they shut at 9pm, two hours later. I would not like to be in the Liberty Events Manager's shoes tomorrow morning (though I would probably like to borrow them if they're Nicholas Kirkwood). Just as I had decided; Scott, I adore you, but I don't need your signature that badly, Garance passed by me and...I was too shy to say hello.
Outside Liberty, I saw a man leaning against a wall that complemented the tones of his outfit, adjusting his scarf and looking around hopefully. I should have then continued on to the Kitsune/Ponystep party at Shop@Bluebird but somehow the idea of a slice of pizza at Princi and a slug of vino rosso sounded just about perfect.
Cheers to you my loves - Scott I hope your writing hand hasn't cramped up too much and Garance, I promise I'll work harder on my social skills.