After a charmant lunch at the Standard with drag star Kitty Hiccups and cultural excavator Brian Cummings, we went shopping in the area.
And shopping naturally leads to sightseeing and photo ops.
When I spotted a fabulous greenhouse display in the back of the Matthew Williamson boutique on 14th Street, I asked the woman working inside if we could get a photo of it.
“Yes!” she exclaimed.
I had Brian run out and get Kitty for the photo.
As Kitty sashayed in — in a personally designed blue satin Malan Breton ensemble — the woman seemed to blanch.
“Let me ask my director if a picture’s OK,” she muttered, running into an office out of view.
Soon enough, she returned, followed by some beavery looking woman with bagel crumbs falling from her mouth.
It was the director. “No pictures!” she barked, unglamorously.
This, even though:
(A) My ass had just been royally kissed at Jeffrey and Stella McCartney
(B) Kitty looked amazing and happens to be the newly crowned Miss’d America
(C) The gowns in Matthew Williamson look like drag outfits anyway!
Oh, well. Brian grabbed a shot of Kitty on the outside as we fled for our lives.