So he says to me: “This must be like me covering a fashion show.”
I was a bit out of place. We were at the Gumball, surrounded by luxury cars. The proud and wealthy behind the wheel of Mercedes, Morgans, BMWs, Bentleys: Corvettes and other compensation. I wasn’t sure what we were looking at.
Derek is a car guy. I’m a lifestyle guy. Luxury made those worlds collide, but Derek actually wanted to see cars. I was hunting celebrity. But I missed Xzibit, heard no mention of the Hoff, saw no important daughters or Middle Eastern princes.
At one point I lent a pen so someone from The Wire could sign a book, but that was about it. One ink stain and a sea of pretty, shining autos. I snapped pictures until sunset, when the photos became stained with steely flash.
Still not a car guy, I slipped out of the crowded street and walked all the way home.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
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1 comment:
The fact that you can identify a Morgan puts you ahead of a lot of auto journalists. Guess I have to sit front row at fashion week to restore the cosmic balance of the world.
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