Yes, the girls are back for Christmas, chic as ever. They did nothing, however, to quell my bad mood. Gucci candy canes just weren’t enough.
There I was at 6 a.m. marching up Park Avenue in a rage. Nothing like starting off your day like you were shot out of a cannon.
In other words, my Italian was up.
Between bad coffee, a headache and someone driving me nuts, I had already had it for the day and it wasn’t even light yet.
As I walked past all the majestic, prewar buildings with doormen in their pressed livery, I look to my left into a beautiful mahogany foyer where I see a young girl in leggins and a turtleneck standing next to an old world concierge complete with a handlebar mustache while a white standard poodle stood with her paws, proudly, on his shoulders.
Why did I think it was a female? She was tall and statuesque, the Kate Moss of poodles, showing off her lady parts, very much like Miss Moss has been known to do.
When I stopped to stare, none of them moved meeting my gaze, short of saying cheese, as if they were camera ready.
Where was my phone to take that picture. It was the funniest, cutest image and the best antidote for my pre-dawn 5 star fury.
A smile came to the rescue relieving me of all that was wrong, especially when they smiled in return.
Couldn’t wait to come home to tell the girls.