Wednesday: taupe Hermès boots

So this is what happens when I am allowed to go to a Lainey trunk sale unchaperoned.

I walked in there intending to just give the girls my sister’s hoodie to get embroidery done on it, swap out the turtleneck I’d gotten from them. . . and then have a look at the new stuff. Just to see, you know?

Well, it never goes as innocently as that. I walk in, and there are rails full of cardis and coats to buy and even more to order for spring. Gulp. Can I help it that it officially dipped into winter-wonderland temps over the weekend? That the scent of the Christmas tree and boughs of holly really, really put me in the mood to buy some scrumptiously cozy cashmere?

An hour and a half later, I walked out with this lovely number. . .

. . . and with this one on order. . .

I just couldn’t help myself. The camel color was so beautiful, and the sleeves have some amazing gold embroidery on them. It was simply perfect. And besides that, Lainey herself said I chose well, as always. How can I argue with that?

When people tell you that you should open a Lainey museum, do you reckon you might have a problem?

Monday: brown Prada suede boots

Well, well, well: My secret’s out. Check out the December issue of W for an article on my heretofore under-the-radar designer obsession, Lainey Keogh. And just in time for the trunk show in New York this week. Can’t hardly wait (to go broke)! I imagine they will be taking orders for the lovely spring pieces that were in the W article. Oh, I dream of those ethereal greens! And I’m hoping there will also be items to buy and take home — you know, Christmas presents, yeah… That’s it.

By the way, I got my coat after all. I decided to accept the sample they offered me — along with another cashmere piece as a bonus — because they figured producing it would take too long. Which means that I have a one-of-a-kind piece. Yay! It is much too beautiful to wear just yet. I need to find the perfect occasion to break it in. And I need to decide what to wear under it; jeans or slim black trousers? At least I’ve got the shoes picked out; uh, well, I’ve narrowed it down to two pairs: either the Guccissima slingbacks or the Valentino mink-flower slings… Now what about jewelry?

Friday: brown Valentino slingbacks

It was almost closing time at Saks, the last day of the pre-sell for the first designer markdowns. A shopping buddy of mine was in the shoe department frantically trying to get the frazzled salesman to bring out her selections in her size. I had told her that I might go over there but — lame, I know — my feet hurt too much and I had to go home. (Sorry, I was wearing my taxi shoes! When I lived in London I determined how I’d get to work by the shoes I was wearing. The “oh, not that uncomfortable” shoes meant the Tube, which was a seven-minute walk away. Just average uncomfortable shoes meant the bus because the stop was right in front of my building — that saved at least a couple hundred steps — but no way I’d make the morning meeting. And really uncomfortable high heels meant taxi, and I’d even get to work early.)

But I digress. I’m sitting at home and my cell phone rings. It’s my friend.

My Friend: Where are you?
Me: Uh… at home.
My Friend: I can’t believe you’re missing out on this.
Me: Yeah, well, I guess I’ll go at lunch tomorrow…
My Friend: Oh my God.
Me: What, did you find those acorn Pradas?
My Friend: Wow, I can’t believe it.
Me: What??? Are my new Prada boots on sale?
My Friend: <gasping> I think you’ve got competition.
Me: What do you mean?
My Friend: There’s this girl sitting next to me and she’s buying like twelve pairs of shoes.
Me: <sputtering> Wha?!
My Friend: Yeah, she’s got a pile of shoe boxes in front of her. It looked like they were piled up to be returned to the stockroom but… she’s… taking… them… all!
Me: <thinking> Wow.
My Friend: <taunting> Oh, she’s showing you up!
Me: <sweating bullets> Uh… what size does she wear?
My Friend: Ooh, she just picked up another shoe…
Me: Don’t let them close the store! I’m on my way!!!

Hey, it’s just a little friendly competition — not to the death, but to the bankruptcy!