Monday, February 11, 2008

Wanna trade a front-row ticket on a cool show for a standing ticket on a crappy one?


Why a blog is the wonderful device that makes sure the annoying things that happen to you are not completely for nothing…

Second day of London Fashion Week…never too early for shenanigans.

So I thought I could go to show A at 16h15 (the crappy one) and still make it to show B at 17hs (the good one). Even though they were on opposite sides of town. And I don’t have a driver (obviously).

So of course show A was super late and when I left, at 17h15, I decided it was silly to go all the way to show B as I would not make it on time (ok, Gringowlindow’s text mentioning something about mashed potatoes for dinner also played its part).

So I am on the bus going home and decide to take another look at show B’s invitation. Hours earlier, I had been intrigued by the seating code on it: “Block C Row FIS”. I kept trying to understand what kind of row that was. Row F Standing…But what did the letter I stand for?

Back on the bus, all of a sudden it dawns on me: FIS = FIRST.

That’s what four seasons of standing or seating on row Z do to a poor soul.

So to summarize I went to crappy standing show A and didn’t make it to cool front-row show B. Which probably had a yummi goody bag, but now I am just torturing myself.

PS: I know I could have told the story above in half the space and double the clarity…but please bare with me…too much chiffon makes the brain go fuzzy. Or maybe it is the champagne.

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