We all dressed in giddy finery. Talk bubbled. Dear friends clasped hands and ran through the crowd. A crazy jumble of bags and coats on the chesterfield. It was good to see everyone. We had to shout to be heard. But no one cared a fig.
The snap of closing lipsticks and clustered secrets in the ladies' room. Attempts at speeches were met with showers of ice cubes.
Afterwards, there was the melancholy of over. Crumpled linen napkins and frosting on plates. We sat and and talked about everything that had happened. Ten years. How quickly it goes by.
All of us, the hooligans and hoydens we once were, now feeling somehow grown, at home in the world. Blazing and whatnot. Explorers, dabblers, impressarios, lovers, eccentrics, the initiated, the inured. Our own little archipelago.
Outside, it was teeming. We piled into cabs. Persuading the drivers to let us sit on laps.
The dog was glad to see us when we got home. Skidding towards us on the lacquered floor.
We didn't go to bed until four. How could we?
Text der Anzeigenkampagne zum zehnjährigen Jubiläum von Kate Spade. Zeilenfall von mir.