Okay, but What Was Leandra Really Doing in Paris?

A fun thing that I have access to is Leandra’s daily calendar. This is pretty boring because mostly, Leandra and I do the same things. Or it says “meetings.” The majority of it is meetings. One time it just said “Instagram” so I checked Instagram and there it was, right on schedule — an Instagram. So actually, her daily calendar is a great way to cure insomnia.

…Except when she’s in Paris for Fashion Week. Then I stalk her. It helps me plan my own day here back at Camp Anawanna but also, it lets me live vicariously, just like every 90s kid did while waiting for his or her turn on the remote controller during Super Mario Bros. But it’s especially entertaining when I look at Leandra’s schedule in the same way I did my SATs, which is to say: completely make shit up.

So I did just that on a Monday for her Tuesday life.

***

According to her cal, Leandra’s Tuesday will begin at 10:30 AM — Chanel show. After that, Valentino, 2:30 PM. Strange gap of time there. Hmm. Interesting. At 3:45, an Aurélie Bidermann appointment. Following that: the Paul & Joe show at 6:30 (a suspicious gap in time), then “cocktails” until 8:00 (ok, Samantha Jones), dinner with N. Josse post-“cocktail,” all chased with three separate parties that there is no shot in a can of tuna she will be able to make, unless she splits herself into multiple people, and three Leandras is my actual nightmare…so here’s how this is really gonna go down:

6:00 AM: Leandra wakes up because she is a farmer.

6:02 AM: Cock-a-doodle-what, Leandra challenges a Parisian rooster.

~*boring stuff here where Leandra types up reviews and emails and shit*~

9:00 AM: A what-do-I-wear frenzy where Leandra tries on 1234 outfits despite the fact that I know for a fact she only packed two and failed to include pajamas, a toothbrush or underwear.

9:00.133 AM: She is getting all of these outfits from the room next door. I think Leandra has a bit of a sticky finger this trip.

10:00 AM: Leandra is now toying dangerously close with being real-life-late but because this is Fashion Week she’s running on runway time, which means a quick break to call her mom.

“Hi mom! It’s so funny that my hotel room looks like the Plaza but it’s because we’re in Amelia’s brain right now and she’s been watching way too much Gossip Girl so she assumes every European hotel room looks like the Plaza, even though the Plaza’s in New York.”

10:45 AM: Leandra’s butt is planted firmly in her seat at Chanel. She gets yelled at by the photographer pit for crossing her legs (a big faux pas because it ruins the runway photos) . Then she gets yelled for uncrossing them, I’d assume because of the whole no underwear thing.

11:30 AM: The show is done, Leandra’s out. Remember that weird amount of time to kill?

Boom. Falafel city, aka Le Marais, aka the only neighborhood she took me to visit that one time I allegedly “followed her” to Paris.

1:30 PM: Pedicure time. If I were Leandra in Paris with a break, I’d YOLO all over the damn town. Also I bet their Essie colors are cooler over there.

2:30 PM: Valentino. She is seated next to Derek Zoolander and Hansel.

3:45 PM: Aurelie appointment, which we all know is ACTUALLY a shopping trip. A big, tassely shopping trip of the non-nipple variety.

Suspicious gap here? It’s called a nap.

6:30 PM: Paul & Joe show as planned, I am not fully insane. However, there is no shot she didn’t sneak a piece of smoked salmon in because that seems to be her snack of choice as of late.

7:30 PM: Climbs tree in the Tuileries in the name of performance art. Gets stuck. Has to call firepeople to come save her.

(See agenda from 6:30 – 7:30. She’s a cat, I knew it.)

8:00 PM: She miraculously makes her cocktails date on time (9 lives!) but it’s not with “N. Josse” as her calendar promised. That was Leandra trying to throw me off her scent. Josse = Jose Canseco, former Major League Baseball outfielder. She’s totally getting a coffee-and-a-cosmo with Canseco.

You know. As one does in Paris. Looks like all three of us knocked the ball out of the park, eh?

I know, I know.  I’m fired.

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