Am dying this morning. Went to a very pretentious party last night at the 151 Club on the King's Road, with my friend I. It was full of double-barrelled twats. I think I may have snogged one of them. The last I saw of I (after I emerged from the toilets, having just vomited pure liquid champagne and ready for my second wind), she was being ushered around by a very tall, very young-looking, over-bred Hooray-Henry, telling anyone who would listen "he's 25". I somehow got home around 3am. I get up at 5am, so you can imagine the state I am in this morning. I look even worse than I feel. Most of my make-up is still at I's flat, and my hair looks like a wig. I had it done at the Topshop hair salon, and chose the "Bardot", an enormous, messy beehive. (got a 55% discount as their sinks were not working and they couldn't wash my hair and I kicked up an enormous fuss and the hairdressers were scared of me. There is so much hairspray, that despite having been sick several times and slept (briefly) in it, my hair has not moved.
I have to go and be sick again.
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