hanging out with the Mafia

Despite trying desperately to lead a normal life, I keep getting sucked back into the Eastern European Mafia connection. This time, I was out of my league.

Last night, very very late, I went to a bar near the Concorde, down the street from Maxim's, hidden in a very exclusive hotel. It was a very chic place, quite luxurious, and the company was dressed and coiffed in appropriate high fashion style. I didn't peak at what the drinks cost because the Mafia were taking care of things tonight. Which is a good thing because I think a gin and tonic cost upwards of 15Eu each.

We got there and the first thing was I got the lookover by the stunning Greek Triumph, Ella, decked in Bulgari satin pleated cocktail skirt, white frilled Chanel shirt, long heels, platinum blond hair, Chanel bag and Veronique Branquino Silk Dressing Gown. She was something else, all oily Greek drawled English and funny slangwords. Sitting across from her was Angelo, the designer. He lives in Rome and was sublimely coutured in the best richest wools and finest cut fabrics, very subtle stuff. They both made me feel extremely dirty!

Let me tell you, my Bulgarian Chic was not going to cut it. I must have been the only girl there not wearing make-up. My nails were not cut, my hair was not washed, and I was in a wacky t-shirt. Rock and roll, baby, but messy, and not fashion enough. I'm just not fashion enough.

Voin, of course, was fine, looking fabulous in some crazy metallic v-neck sweater, think Jewish princess meets V, the tv mini-series, tan leather pants and sultry rouge button up satin boots. Ouch. This guy does this, everywhere he wants, and it kicks so much ass. He can charm the pants off a potato.

So, night was fun, and got very drunk, plus laughed while watching them try to eat onion soup, at 5:30am, at a very shitty bar near the Gare de l'Est. Poor things. The chef was really lucky he didn't get killed. But, you know, they took things in good spirit, and the two of them are actually very sweet, if Angie can be a touch bitchy.

I am outclassed when hanging with the Mafia. Earlier, I had managed to earn my keeps by steering them to Serge Gainsbourg's house, at 4am, where Ella signed her name on the wall in lipstick. Lucky for me, I had Dacnar on the other end of my GPS mobile. Whew... Still alive. Next time, must remember to dress up when Mafia comes in town!