𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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Three days later, I find myself in Harrods beauty department with a glass of Louis Roederer's Cristal Rosé with New Life (original mix) by Alessio Cappelli quietly pumping from the DJ booth just left of me.
M.K. Face launched this evening, Mia's big night. The whole calvary is here, everyone on their best behaviour so they don't fuck this up for her. The rest of them came back from Miami yesterday morning, said they had an amazing time but wished I was there.
"This is actually going really good, isn't it?" Mia holds the rim of her champagne glass against her lips, slightly tipsy, words are starting to drag. Looks every part of the star of the show with her hair slicked back, glittery eyeshadow and glossed lips. Already in the two hours that I've been here, I've seen her outfit posted online. Balmain sequin-embellished mini dress and Jimmy Choo Love 100mm pumps.
"Why wouldn't it? You flew DJ Speck over from Ibiza, had an invitation list that resembled the MET's and your makeup is actually good unlike some of the other shit in here." I give her a nudge with my arm, look around at all the other people in our social realm mingling about the place.
"That is very true...oh, look, it's Rhys Hamilton. Let me go say hi," Mia saunters off over to the Greek god-looking model.
I tip the rest of my drink back, place it on the tray that passes me and grab another. Haven't seen George yet, haven't seen Albie. I'm sure they'll appear soon, though.
I get myself a bit bubbly before I go over and start making conversations. Still, a bit funny from the meltdown the other night, haven't felt right since but I'm glad Mia and Astrid can stay with me now.
An hour later, I'm in a deep (rather drunk) chat with Jude Tilden and his twin sister, Josie. Jude's an F1 racer and his sister's your typical Chelsea party girl.
"...and I said, 'I don't care! I want a fucking Birkin so give me one,' and the guy helping me was all like, 'I will if you give me a blowjob.' I mean, how fucking rude!" Josie waves her arms about, the three of us laughing. She walks back a bit, into a sever and knocks the empty tray on the floor.
"Oh, I am so sorry, darling!" she bends to pick it up, has to hold onto the counter next to her to steady herself. "Right," she turns back to us. "I'm going to powder my nose. Harper, you coming?"
"No, no," I wave her off, remember the shit show in Miami. "Not for me anymore."
Josie smiles and struts away to the bathroom. Me and the twins go back, actually. During my rough patch after Rose, I powdered my nose a lot in various different club and restaurant bathrooms with Josie and her crowd of coked-up friends. She's a right a good time, don't get me wrong but I can't fucking keep up.
"She's absolutely wankered, that one," Jude shakes his head, sips his whiskey. He's gorgeous looking. Dark, slightly curly hair, about six feet, maybe an inch less, all sharp lines and green eyes. His sister looks no different. "You still with the Forbes bloke?"
