My necklace is Tiffany. My jacket is Juicy Couture. My purse is Louis Vuitton and my shoes are Ugg.
Anonymous.
Picture an 8-year-old girl saying this to me, a reporter, at a store grand opening in Downtown San Francisco. The place is packed with slick well-clad people standing in clusters sipping champagne and saying “no” to the hors d’oeuvres offered on trays by silent waitstaff.
It was circa 2009 when I was covering such events for the Nob Hill Gazette and the now defunct 944 magazine A media savvy mother introduced her daughter to me and the youngster immediately launched into her spiel in a sign-song little voice that still rings in my ears. I didn’t even have the chance to say hello. This fashionista knew what to say and do. After listing the brands she struck a pose. Hand on waist, head tilted and sporting a wide grin she stood as still as a stone sculpture waiting for me to take her photo.
My first thought was – a little girl is carrying a Louis Vuitton?! Wearing the wardrobe and speaking the speak of a grown woman, she was at once charming and surreal.
This is just one of many memorable experiences I had during a two year period that I call The Fling, when, as a member of the press I attended openings, parties, and other events hosted by SF socialites. It was a fun and a bewildering period of my writing life that left me with many an interesting story to tell. And a few not to tell.
Style simply IS. You can’t buy it. You can’t pay people to give it to you, and you 
OverDressed for Life 