My editor is never happy with me. Even from the Philippines she sends me hateful emails.
"JD- The details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Grace Coddington I'm not going to approve that girl that she sent me for the Brazilian layout. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling; she sent me dirty, tired and paunchy. And RSVP yes to Karl's party, I want the driver to drop me off at 9:30 and pick me up at 9:45 sharp. Then call room service at the Ritz and tell them no, for the 40th time, no, I don't want a club sandwich, do I look like I eat sandwiches? I want a plate with nothing but 4 raisins on it. Then call Sally Singer and remind her the deadline for that Balenciaga piece is tonight. Then call Roger Federer. Ask him to please meet me for dinner at that place I went to with Vivienne Westwood. Whatever you do, don't tell that chubby Slovak girlfriend of his. Also, tell André I saw all the pictures that he sent for that feature on the she-male tranny Asian paratroopers and they're all so deeply unattractive. Is it impossible to find a lovely, slender, she-male Asian paratrooper? Am I reaching for the stars here? Not really. Also I need to see all the things that André has pulled for Olga Sherer second cover try. I wonder if she's lost any of that weight yet."
Maybe I should look for another job?