Keen to make the most of Vin Rouge time and the least of baggage claim boredom, we decided to take hand luggage only. A bonne idée until both bags set off the infrared scanners at security due to the sheer volume of vanity products. It’s a rude awakening to be given a small see-through bag and politely told you can only take what fits into it. Having to publically prioritise your beauty products is quite a challenge I can tell you, especially when you’re off to Paris of all places and will require at least an inch of foundation to get from bleak to chic. I could see the panic in my friend’s face as she had to question on the spot whether Touché Éclat should outrank Beauty Flash Balm.
Having spent a wicked 48 hours in a blur of cigarettes, sequins and ridiculously beautiful people, I have returned to a sickness bug. My daughter pretty much greeted me by vomiting at my (fabulous) heels and has whined ‘Mu…mm…y’ ever since, as if to provide a constant reminder of my role lest I had forgotten somewhere over the English Channel.
Since there’s no chance of setting foot outside the front door, I have broken all my own rules and told the kids they can do what they want, learning in the ensuing half hour that ‘iPad’ is a key part of my daughter’s vocabulary – at 22 months - and my four year old liberally uses Google as a verb. Oh shit.
I have spent the afternoon making rounds of dry toast, stroking heads, attempting to catch vomit in various receptacles and wanting to punch Mr fucking Tumble. I’ve got a good mind to go and put my sequins back on.