I shall be attending the opening of an artist's exhibition this evening. Or should I say, I'll be dragged; you all know how I loathe artists and modern art. I've tried like anything to get out of it, but it does appear I am doomed! Haha! People are always so lovely to me, so kind. But I do wish they would have the sense to know that I really don't care to bother with all this "artistic" nonsense. So dreary, most of it. So jarring and unpleasant. I suppose I shall have to gaze upon rows and rows of pictures of ladies whose noses have gone astray. But, because I'm so well-known to the public, I can't react like any average person might when confronting such horrors. I certainly can't screw up my face in disgust, when I know everyone will be watching me. No, I must always be a very beacon of decorum. So I shall go about smiling and nodding. And I shall punctuate the pantomime with a veritable torrent of "hmmm..."'s and "ah!"'s. I shall take the - often quite filthy - hands of the poor little artists and tell them that their wretched little daubs are really quite fetching. Yes, I shall. I suppose it is my duty. But how tiresome!
Of course, I'll spray myself with a great cloud of Arpège before I go out; you can be sure of that, my darlings! To help mask - to help me endure - the pestilential odors I am certain to encounter; artists are so very unhygienic.
1 week ago