the coefficient of drag

I'm thoroughly knackered, and UNINSPIRED. This is in spite of the hundred or so drafts—which would translate to a ton of fashionable scoops—that I could be finishing up (for my memoirs.) I'm not sure what's wrong. It may have something to do with my newly-adopted biorhythm. Since my return to the cold world (Boston) last weekend, I've taken to falling asleep at about 8 pm and waking up at 2 am. Until now, it's worked out just splendidly: I'd wake up and do lots of chic skimming and reading. The on-going European Men's Shows have also proven terribly addictive, minus the obviously sexually-unavailable (read: gay, no offense) and androgynous species.

Today morning, however, blah...

Instead, I've wholesomely (not!!) transferred—and translated, very well indeed—this blah episode into a festering disapprobation for the once prevailing Louis Vuitton Cruise 08 handbag collection ads!! When the ads surfaced toward the end of the last year, I had a thrilling fit. I convulsed with a shameful laughter at the utter disproportionateness of every aspect of the poses.
End of story. Or so I thought.

Today, out of nowhere, I'm spewing an unfashionable hatred and contempt for the by-gone ad. I mean, what in the world was that unrealistic, uncomfortable and ugly-faced, plastic-doll pose?? And, why did the Monogram Rubis Salina GM bag seem to possess a dynamic power of its own; managing to suspend its entire structure at an exaggerated angle sans any real model manipulation (negligible drag)?? And don't get me started on the Mini Lin Croisette ad featuring the same plastic model (again no offense, I'm sure she was just doing her job.)

I'm sure the ad struck an ugly nerve with a lot of folks; the Spring ads, while maintaining the pervading plasticity of handbag ad campaigns, are certainly much prettier!! Even if I grudgingly admit it, I love the infused downtown feel of the new collections. And wouldn't you just look at that French Riveria Pump in yellow!! I'm getting excited for my options!!








Sweet glacé kisses to make up for my 'haterade'.
I feel so much better.