There have been so many parties this week that of course my wings have been flapping. Generally I like to go for five minutes but I managed to sit through two dinners and have a great time. Simon Lee's party for Larry Clark, the infamous director and photographer, was very interesting because I was sitting next door to Larry, the king himself. Larry is quietly spoken with great humour, such good company.
Last night I had the honour of sitting next to another royal in the shape of, Derek Jacobi, at Harvey Weinstein's very generous dinner party at Amada, 17 Berkeley Street, to celebrate among other films The Kings Speech. Derek was so witty that I laughed all night. He is about to start a tour round England of King Lear. We talked about Shakespeare sonnets, plays and dogs, on my other side was the lovely Geordie Greig, editor of The Evening Standard. He always reminds me that my great grandfather had the job of editor first, his name also started with a G and ended with a G, George Gilliat. It was a sparkling night, there was Colin Firth, Tom Hooper the Director, Alexandre Desplat, the incredible composer, Harvey Weinstein, and people from other fields of London life, like artist Barry Reigate, Kim Hersov, Heather Kerzner and many others. (They had all better win BAFTA's tomorrow-they deserve it)
Arriving with my favourite man on the planet, Nicky Haslam, I was dressed in a black lace dress with black beading, by my new crush of a designer called Emilia Wickstead, over my shoulders I had my first fur ever. I was even shocked by wearing it. I bought it because I was freezing in Paris, and I was in Rick Owens. I feel like a cave man in it. There is something so raw about fur. I have always been an anti, and I am still not convinced, but if you are going to wear any, it has to be Rick's because at least he respects the animal, and as everybody says "We all wear leather" - somehow it is not the same