Glam and the ghetto (updated weekly)

SW10 - Bella

Holy barnacles how the fuck was it 6am already? Jesus we went on a serious bender last night. My head was pounding like a bloody marching band and if my chauffeur didn't stop taking advantage of the solitude of the early morning highway and hitting every speed bump at 30mph, I was going to chunder all over the polished grey leather seats of the panther black Range.

I knew that second line of coke was a mistake after I had already guzzled down a shit load of champagne not to mention all the bloody pornstar martinis at dinner. Oh god I was absolutely plastered. Why hadn't we reached my apartment yet? And why would the roof not stop spinning!

Despite my overall disorientation, the tall chalk white buildings began to look familiar and I knew it wouldn't be long before my Jimmy's and I would be stumbling across the monochrome stairs that led to our 7 foot front door, standing boldly with its large bronzed lion head knocker. I just prayed that my keys were still comfortably tucked away in my Chanel and that I hadn't carelessly misplaced them while I was waving myself around in ecstasy at Charlie club, like I had done countless of times before.

Staggering as graciously as a newborn gazelle, I actually managed to make it inside the  private apartments and in an effort to circumvent pissing off the two neighbours downstairs, I half crawled half zombie walked the first and only flight of stairs to the floor which was mine.

Made it. Safe and sound although a little worse for ware nonetheless. I collapsed onto the Arabian cotton sheets that mummy had brought me from her travels in the Middle East. I heard the french headboard knock against the brick wall it leaned upon as my petite figure plummeted the plush linen.

My heels made a clunking sound against the old oak floorboards as I kicked them off without a care for their value. why would I when there were always plenty more in the other double room which I used as a walk in wardrobe. My eyes felt as heavy as led and stayed firmly shut during the entire sloppy process. Without warning, my entire perception started rolling backwards and I felt as if I was falling off the bed. My eyes shot open and revealed that, in fact, I was still placed firmly below the high rise ceiling and anchored rather solidly to the bed by my own intoxication. I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep for a while yet and so fumbled around my handbag which lay beside me to check for messages on my phone. Before I even had the chance to initiate my password I could see hundreds of notifications from my instagram story and snapchat. In that moment a private message popped up on the screen from Hugo, the polo playing socialite who recently graduated from Regents asking if "I fancied a quick shag?" How absolutely charming from such a well mannered respectable member of the tight nit high society. If his general obnoxiously proper mannerisms and horselike facial features weren't a deterrent enough, that message certainly was.

Ignoring the text, I scrolled through the other notifications and seen that Molly had apparently made it back to her suite at the Dorchester from a recent upload she had made to the gram. Of course she had time to check-in at the hotel but not the time to check and see if I actually made it home okay, after she had left me half way through the evening. I swear these valley girls had no sense of etiquette. Bitch. The only reason I still kept her in my company was because daddy and her father were terribly fond of each other and we would often go on family cruises together to the south of France while we were growing up, although of course now the only time I even spoke to daddy was when I needed my American express topping up. That was of course if I wasn't currently cut off from the family funds for my 'outlandish' behaviours that brought shame on our family name.

I couldn't help but shed a handful of woeful tears that trickled down the side of my cheeks and basined in either ear. Sometimes I felt like such a failure to my family when deep down in my heart all I wanted to do was to see them proud of me. I felt like I had wasted so much time trying to discover myself in lavish trips and escapades across the globe instead of completing my degree in English which was now 5 years in the making. Even when I completed the degree, what would I do? How could I ever live up to the Bartier name and accomplish even half the things that my ancestors had left for my inheritance. The only meaningful thing I could see happening for me was to create a successful career as an online influencer, stroke model, where I could maybe teach others how to live the lives of their wildest ambition or perhaps do something vastly charitable that goes viral where I win some kind of award or Dame-hood. There was of course always the option of making a standing impression on one of the cities eligible Batchelor and acquiring a Tiffany's diamond to be forever bound to my left ring finger in a holy matrimony like mummy had. But I wanted more for myself than to simply move from daddy's home into my husband home and retire at the age of 40 as a botox loving, bitter old housewife.

The parties and the drugs had been fun but it was time I had made something of myself. I rolled over onto my front and burrowed my face into the goose feathered pillow, where it sponged up my damp face. The more my face sunk into its comforting hold, the more the room began to slow down and the darkness provided by the blackout blinds, seduced me into a deep slumber.