Blah Blah Blahg

Love is never having to finish your sandwich

Peaches Geldof is my favorite socialite. Her dad, Bob, is so cool for naming his kids things like Fifi Trixibelle and Tiger Lilly that I'm sure they would both totally embrace Sparkleberry Dreamcloud and Rainbow Skyes (my future children). I think Peaches and I would be really good at being besties. She could dye the ends of my hair blue and I could eat her food for her so she stays skinny.

When Peaches moved to New York, got married, and started working at Nylon I flipped out and read her column religiously. And by religiously I mean I read the first paragraph. CG, who knows her husband kind of, and I loved it too much to keep reading. Here it is:

"The sun glows a burned orange as it sinks behind a skyscraper, a car horn screeches irritably, the wind whistles through the acres of willows in Central Park: New York, the most offbeat and eccentric city in America, is my new home. I love it here. I live with my husband, Max, in Williamsburg, home of the plaid shirt and vintage Mecca Beacon’s Closet."

Amazing, right? It gets better. I finally finished the whole column and have since read it over five or six times. It talks about her American experiences and what she loves about New York and spending money, you know, regular old column stuff. But here's my favorite part:

"I traveled across America in a cramped, packed U-Haul and experienced parts of the U.S. not many people see unless they go off the beaten path."

Leave it to the British to tell Americans what they haven't seen of their own country. Truth, this is a big country and lots of people have never rented a UHaul, but I can almost bet that I've seen more of America than her by planting my ass right on the beaten path. But its ok though, because I spent a week in London once and I've seen more of England than most British people. Have you guys heard of Buckingham Palace?

Anyway, I still love Peaches and always read her column and then sit for a few hours in my sweatpants, dreaming about what it would be like to be Peaches' best friend. It would probably be like scene from Zoolander where they have the gasoline fight except without all the dying. Zoolander is still relevant, right?

So, anyway, read Peaches' musings here: Can You Seduce Peaches?
(oh and in case anyone loves reading comments as much as I do, the best comment under the linked article is "I do not want to seduce Peaches. I don't want herpes.")

posted by Bagel @ 6:04 AM