A, My Divinity,

Ca va, if I may be so forward as to embrace you in the familiar. I know I have not been familiar with you in the longest. I know I have been derelict in my chief duty in life (i.e. supplying you with steaming cups of the latest suss from this fresh Sodom called Manhattan) Bay-bee, I swear I can explain , yo. A peculiar thing happened to me. The most peculiar thing imaginable, (especially for me) happened. Moi, the insidious demi-god of debauchery Burnt Out On It All. Unimaginable, no! Yes girl, your Marathon Man, that fine, flinty unit of supernatural nocturnal stamina (No Sleep Til Brooklyn) snap, crackled, and popped like the proverbial moth that hovered too close to the hellfires that fuel Night world.

It was during lunch with Rushka and Devon at Cafe Gitane sometime last Febuary, that I could feel that my enthusiasm for the whole circuit had simply.....waned. Devon was just giving ultra-oblivious talking about how funny and giddy Jeremy Scott is, which just inspired knowing smiles from Roosh and myself. She doesn’t know the half of it, poor child. Jamie Rishar was there in a highly dubious tete a tete' with Billy Zane trying to be Queen of the Domain. (I'm speaking about Jamie, mind you). It was just sooooo high school cafeteria. By the by, how suspicious is it that everybody is claiming to have discovered Devon now that she is the Chanel icon supreme. Rushka whom I shall give ultimate credit was the first to inform me of this "wicked punk child with blonde hair and Asian features whose Daddy is like a billionaire and was shopping like a teen fiend at the Valentino’s on Madison." Then Mike Warlow, who used to manage Duran Duran, claimed he used to car pool her to school with his kids and was the one who introduced her to Sarah Doukas at Storm...And then Ellen von Unwerth swears she was the one who first touted Devon... I could go on but you are imaginative...

So like I was saying, lunch with Devon and I'm shockingly aware that this sixteen year old child represents the new fashion generation. These blissfully oblivious kids...they are the new enfants terribles'. I mean she's never even heard of Kirsten McMenamy!. Nostalgic before 30, how did it come to this? Next day I wake up and my brain is so fractured, I am utterly unable to even conceive of calling for a car back to the city. I just couldn’t do it. The banal shows, the cheap champagne, the incessant whispering and sniping. My mind collapsed. And hon, I was not the only one going through it. As you recall it was quite the season of rifts and tiffs. Naomi as you know stopped talking to Kate after Kate apparently boffed Nellee who was Naomi's ex. We should have known that Kate’s "wagon" pot-shots on that VH-1 Naomi - Mandela spectacular last November were a sign of impending trouble. Then Kate does Rehab which the press devoured like it was free Krut at a CFDA mixer. Then the daily rags starting posting this cheap lie that Calvin dropped Kate out of displeasure when you know and I know Calvin had been surveying girls for a new contract as far back as September 98. Then Naomi sees that the post-Rehab Kate is logging all these ace covers and editorials and now she really loathes Kate with all her angry little heart. She calls up Paul at the agency furious. Subsequently La Diva stalks out of Women and defects to Ford (???) and then gets into this nasty negotiation snafu with Donatella over her Versace fees. Up shot: Donatella drops Naomi from the Fall ready to wear. That goes to prove that models should never engage the client in direct negotiations. So anyway La Diva tries to pass off her little tantrum as a passing storm and bells Paul asking to come back except Paul’s not taking the call. It also goes to prove that when Mercury is in retrograde, he don’t play.