lifestyles of the rich and the famous...

and all things spooky...


On thursday we celebrated sam's birthday mixed with a halloween extravaganza. Sam is SO into halloween that our whole house currently looks like a haunted house complete with orange lights (actually that' more brothel like)
Sam's DJing performances have got her many 'lucrative' contacts like Djing for the MTV Europe awards in Lisbon next month and including an entrance into the club for her birthday night. This being, the instructions were to dress very nicely for we were to be hanging out with the 'rich and the famous'

Sam had her cake...yes, it is what it looks like. (sorry mum) and then we headed to Regent Street to Cafe Royale.


It was WERID. But that just gives away my lack of rich and famousness. Pants. We had huge doors swung open for us and we stepped onto a large marbled lobby and then through some more doors into a club with super high victorian style ceilings, chandaliers, sofas and just your normal DJ decks, bar etc. AND an awful lot of posers! We were 'informed' that the editor of Vogue mgazine was there as were some top models and slightly well known bands. oh and Kelly Osbourne was to be arriving in half an hour!

We got on with pretending we were famous. By attaching something similar to what we were, to our identities, we boosted our confidence and pretty much walked round the place like we owned it. Or at least that we deserved to be there. It was laughable!

(me and a best bud, designer boy)

The music was awesome and I danced like I haven't in ages. The poser attitudes worked. The manager of the club who looked like he'd just stepped out of Bugsy Malone-slicked back hair, tiny moustache and braces kept glancing over at me on the dance floor. eventually he came over, put his arm around me and said in THE most greasy voice ever 'so how are you then?' I replied that I was fine and how was he? He said 'so who might you be?' I replied my name was Becci and asked him his. He took my hand, said 'I am David' then knelt down and kissed my hand. Ew. I said to him 'I'm Sam's housemate'. At that he just kinda walked away. I think I said something wrong in the rules of poserland...to be honest i don't care.

I don't care that I have nothing to prove. I don't care that I don't constantly have to look amazing. I don't care that I spent some of my summer helping refugees rather than 'attending these parties' as Sam said to me halfway through the night. I don't care that I had to pretent I was 'cool' enough to be there. I suspect so was practically everyone else there between their conversations of 'oh yes, I saw you in Milan or Paris'...I really had a great night. And yes, Kelly Osbourne did show up.

Oh and I also got asked out by a really cute black guy with amazing dance rhythm who
works for Gucci...ok so maybe I do care...just a little bit...