ROME The incomparable Anna and I evolved a theory in the Eternal City. One pretty lady can create a stir, but a pair trigger an exponential amount of chaos.
Sascha and I put this to the test. In glad rags and high heels, we teetered over the cobbles (no beehives apologies, Louche). And lo, minor traffic jams occurred: most memorably, the man who simply stopped his moped, bottle-necking a busy alley, and began speaking in tongues.
Oh, it was great fun. We ran into friends. And friends of friends. Then we all took tea at the preposterous Hotel Russe, where it takes true chutzpah indeed to pull off a two-pound ($4) dress. But we bogarted glamour from the opera singers in the group, most especially mezzo-soprano Louisa.
In two weeks time, I'll be playing Texas Hold 'Em in Alaska ... As my pseudo-sib Edward insists: "this is a ridiculous way to make a living."
He should know. ERH flies off to Timbuktu in a private jet this week.
But that absurdity has nothing on walking ten stony miles in 3.5-inch heels.