Woke up on Saturday morning curled up with the sweet NYU boy and the little dog tangled in our feet.  It felt good to feel him there.  We walked west to meet my lawyer.  It was a great meeting.  We connected.  Looking forward to this project.

Lunch with Federico then we all headed to the Cristobal Balenciaga show at the Spanish Institute curated by Hamish Bowles.  Dan joined us there.   Very well attended show.  Many, many old ladies in mink coats and equal numbers of gay men including that really camp boy Austin Scarlet from Project Runway.

BALENCIAGA: Spanish Master is the first exhibition to consider the impact of Spain’s culture, history and art on one of its greatest twentieth-century sons, the legendary designer Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972). Hailed as “Fashion’s Picasso” by Cecil Beaton, Balenciaga’s innovations transformed the way women dressed, from the opening of his Paris fashion house in 1937 until his retirement in 1968. His visionary designs and impeccable standards seduced generations of the best-dressed women in the world.

Separated over two floors in three rooms this exhibition could have been delightful but sadly…wasn’t.  There were simply too many beautiful costumes crammed into two badly lit rooms.  The descriptive captions were almost unreadable and the ‘influences’ we were promised were hard to divine.

There were some very beautiful dresses.  Some really pretty hats.  Wonderful beading and embroidery.   The black and white film of the fashion show on the top floor was interesting because most of the pieces looked so frumpy and the women in the audience were smoking.

Cab home.  After the show Aaron and I lay on the sofa and napped.

All the while I am having a huge kerfuffle with some man making comments on my blog.  I took down all of the comments and my replies.

He was trying to persuade me that I was clinically insane but all of the ‘symptoms’ he used to convince me of my insanity seemed perfectly reasonable coping mechanisms for the unusual, the addict and the high achievers.

I am not striving any time soon to be NORMAL.  I am not striving to hang with NORMAL people…what or who ever they are?

I certainly don’t want to end up in crippling mediocrity…in some clap board home in River Ville filled with furniture a bed bug wouldn’t bother infesting.

Dinner with Ian Drew.  A young lady asked if I was famous.  I told her that I thought maybe she was confusing me with some other guy.  She wasn’t convinced.