Fairies don’t take too kindly to fluorescent light
and flashbulbs. Last night I learned exactly what it was like to be a fashion
victim. My shoes were so high I had to hold on to Joel as I walked across the
carpark to Segafredo, where we met Marlon, Ricky and assorted other friends on
hugging terms with people dressed as mummies, schoolgirls and

I wore a long white multilayered Dries Van
Noten skirt, a lame excuse for a top from Theatre in Bangkok, a hair ornament I
whipped up before Joel and I left the house, and enough eye makeup and blush to
offend the gods.