Bloody hell it’s freezing. And Bloody hell I’ve just sworn. My business partner sent me a box of soap recently. Apparently I am no longer allowed to swear.
Chicago. Been here before to appear on Oprah, we were both both dressed in the same tone of grey. A mistake. They asked if I could change.
This time I am launching my new business in the city with a tea party hosted by the generous Alessandra Branca, in a beautiful club that cannot be named.
The beautiful club that cannot be named was filled with old world charm and good manners and roaring fireplaces and dark green velvet and swaged silk curtains and grand piano’s and men in livery, with white cotton gloves serving us tall flutes of champagne, beside a table brimming with delicate finger sandwiches and warm scones and clotted cream, as crisp white snow lingered on the window sills outside.
I never wanted to leave the beautiful club that could not be named.