Ode to DVF

You know you’re on your way to the top when you find yourself sitting on the chic concrete floor of Diane von Furstenberg’s West Village studio/apartment. (And I do NOT mean “studio apartment”…not even close, try three story studio, office and apartment!) Yes, that is right faithful blogger fans, I have spent nearly 36 hours of my life now wrapping presents for the ever famous designer friend of the late Andy Warhol. (Yeah, she has a real Warhol painting OF HERSELF hanging on the walls…that, along with three other giant portraits…of her.) I can’t help imagining what it would be like to wake up in the morning, have a cup of coffee, write in my journal, feed my cat, brush my hair and get dressed, make my bed, grab my toast and head out to work…located one floor down from my sweet ass apartment. (Not to mention the fact that my workplace doubles as a shrine…to me, DIANE VON FURSTENBEEEEERRRRG!) I guess I’m sounding a little too Devil Wears Prada here, from what I gather, she’s a perfectly nice woman. For instance: Today she came twirling down the spiral staircase and into the studio where we were working. Realizing that is was a chilly environment for us to be slaving in she immediately took care of the problem.
“Helleeewwww! HELEEEWWW! It’s seeeewww cold in he-ahh… MAH-TAN, LOUISE! Why is this air-ah conditioning tuhned on, it’s sooo cold. Tuhn it off!”
She looks out for people and that’s why I love ‘er so damn much!

(Please excuse the abundance of parenthetically expressed thoughts…and ellipses…)


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