One of the most ‘high powered/ important’ fashion journalists just came into the office today. He walked in as if he ruled the world, which I suppose according to him, and the rest of the fashion industry, he does .He had on jeans as tight as Karl Lagerfeld’s, an even tighter fuchsia tee (”its all about Fuchsia darling”) and funky Ray -Bans that he was wearing despite the typical grey and rainy London day and which he kept on for the entire appointment, that was held inside a showroom. He was fabulous. I would like to say I took the appointment, or showed him around the collection discussing key trends for the season and suggesting ‘must have’ pieces for his shoot, but who am I kidding – I followed him around holding the clothes, and picking up hangers as he selected his pieces while the head of the company, who had gotten dressed up, talked him through our latest garments. I was introduced, I’ll give them that much, but as an intern I did not get the air kisses- which I felt I deserved. He looks; my boss talks and I follow. Suddenly he turns to me and says in his ever so fabulous way ”poppet pop this on, I want to see”. So I took the top and started walking towards the door, to the bathroom , to ‘pop’ the top on, but he says with utter disgust and surprise, ”no, no, no poppet just do it here, quick quick, pop it on” . So right there I had to ‘pop’ my top off and ‘pop’ his top on, while sucking in as much as I could, thanking my lucky stars I was wearing a gorgeous bra and hoping like hell that nothing ‘popped’ out!