The last day of the year; bathed in star-spangled illumination at The Brasserie of Light in Selfridges. It’s my sparkle haven in the city. When the urban greys are chasing away my serotonin, it feeds my soul like an IV drip of molten glitter. London’s nod to Versaille’s hall of mirrors.
“You should sleep with Theo,” said my friend Amelia curtly, devoid of any emotion.
She was talking about her handsome yet dissolute flatmate who she had ended up in bed with a few weeks before. Amelia was leaving London for good the following day.
I was a little taken aback. Only two weeks before she said he was someone she could have really fallen in love with. I had patiently consoled her, a quivering wreck after he had supposedly wronged her in some way, (the details of which never became clear), even after I had heard both sides of the story.
I felt as if we were two farmers trading livestock or a couple of city traders down at the pub on a Thursday night in Threadneedle Street, exchanging banter about ‘birds’ like chattels*. Is this how empowered women of the 21st Century are behaving these days or were we entering into some kind of game or power struggle? I wasn’t sure…I felt a mixture of excitement, confusion & curiosity. After all, I knew for a fact that Theo was a good lover. Was this perhaps Amelia’s ultimate gesture of generosity, a very inventive leaving gift?
Amelia and I had planned to go to The Electric in Notting Hill for their New Year’s Eve Party with some other friends. I rocked up at her flat a little late, having spent longer than normal matching my metallic eye make up with my silver Barbarella catsuit!
“Hurry up, otherwise you’ll miss Theo. He really wants to meet you.”
*Chattels are personal belongings or possessions.
