Ready to Wear Page #2

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being "behind."

Ah, I'm not really interested

in jockeying for position.

I-I just think we're going through an

incredibly exciting, vital time at Elle.

A lot of articles about sex nowadays in Elle.

I think they're interesting.

They're very diverting, both

magazines, but I still think

Vogue is the final word, Kitty.

- Oh, I think Vogue...

- I think you'll have to agree

with me there. I have to go.

This was fun.

I, uh, suppose you

don't remember me. Major Hamilton?

- Marshall Field's, Chicago.

Fashion director?

- Oh, yes.

It's good seeing you.

I have a little bit of time.

Would you like a quick interview?

Oh, we really don't do

unscheduled interviews.

Oh, I don't mind.

I don't mind at all.

Hey, Milo. Milo, one minute.

- One minute. Hey. How are you?

- I'll be here if you need me.

- Kitty Potter? Kitty Potter.

- How're you doin'? Yeah.

We ready? We rollin'?

This is Milo O'Brannigan...

the most sought-after fashion

photographer in the business today.

Milo, you've had a lock on the look

of the '90s for decades now.

Um, how have you managed to stay

on top of everything?

Probably the same way

you have, Kitty.

Just hard work and believin'

in yourself, right?

Mmm. Taking advantage of

other people's insecurities.

Anyway, we'll

show it to Pilar.

So, does your mother

believe in the old adage...

that some women dress for men,

but most women dress for other women?

You know, my mother makes dresses

to celebrate a woman's body.

Dressing for men has never

particularly interested her...

although she's certainly

undressed for a few of them.

No. You know, the main

difference between men and

women in fashion is this:

Women make dresses for themselves

and for other women;

a man... makes clothes

for a woman he wants to be with...

- or, as in most cases,

for the woman he wants to be.

- Mm-hmm.

Are you married?

Mm-hmm. I'm married to Dane.

Come over here, honey.

Okay.

Dane, whoo-hoo.

Earth to Dane.

Jack, try and be

a little bit nice.

This is my wife, Dane.

These are her famous legs, and

this is her famous sister, Kiki.

- Hello. Fiona.

- Hey, how's it going? Hey, Fiona.

- Hi, I'm Dane.

- They share the same father, at least

that's what their agent tells us.

I made these clothes for your

old body, and now you couldn't

fit into them if I asked you to.

- Cy! Cy, it was not her fault.

- Am I crazy? Am I crazy, or what?

What of a "fault"? It's not a fault, you

f*ggot! You woman-haters! It's great!

- It's a big shock!

- Albertine, you could've

called me, right?

- I was in Germany.

- You could've called me.

Oh, oh, I am crazy, I am crazy!

Or did the goddamn Germans

invent the telephone?

They invented worse, okay? I wasn't

really sure I was going to keep it.

Look, you gotta be eight

and a half months pregnant.

I mean, if I was Lacroix

or was that thief Lagerfeld,

you would've called me, right?

- We'll get Eve; they are the same size.

- I hate her f***ing tattooed head.

- You're bald!

- Aren't I.

Uh...

Violetta.

- Yes.

- I can't deal with this girl.

- Well, I'll get rid of her.

- Albertine. Albertine's the one I want.

- Why can't I have Albertine?

- Albertine is pregnant.

The agency said she was pregnant.

Pregnant is not my silhouette

this season!

- Oh, I know.

- I mean, it is not.

It is not, it is not!

My bulge is in the bustle out

at the back, not in the bulge up front.

Bald tattoo is not part

of my vision. It's beyond deja vu.

We're freezing out here!

Oh.

Monsieur!

Monsieur, qu'est-ce que

vous faites?

Ah, mon Dieu!

- What? Are you joking?

- Pilar, the two

greys, it's not good, you know.

- Get me Ricardo Bonet...

- Hold on, please. Simone.

- Why is there no music today here?

- S'il vous plait.

- Simone, it's important.

- Okay, I'm coming.

- Please.

- Oh, your smoke, Pilar.

You're killing us.

Oui?

Oui, c'est moi.

- Murdered?

- Jack!

Put on the news.

C'est pas possible. He was here.

A little bit more...

Olivier has been murdered.

What? What? What?

- When did this happen?

- What happened?

Does... his wife know yet?

Oh, mon Dieu!

Madame.

We're coming to you live from

the historic Pont Alexandre in Paris...

where Olivier de la Fontaine...

Eyewitnesses report a stocky man,

possibly in his mid-60s...

...fleeing the scene by plunging...

This is a shocking prelude to

the spring pret-a-porter collections...

the glittering spectacle

Olivier de la Fontaine choreographed...

each season

for a cast of thousands.

It's, uh...

It's this... this one.

- You took photographs?

Can I have the roll?

- Oui. Yes.

Okay. You give your...

You give your name.

He jumped off the bridge,

just like that. He just jumped off.

- Totally bizarre. Completely strange.

- I-I saw the whole thing.

Il est ou le chauffeur?

- Could you identify the guy?

- All white people look alike to me.

All right. How can you tell

him apart from your boss, if it's true?

By his clothes, how do you think?

That's how I tell everybody apart.

Our tickets for shows...

How much longer?

Miss, how much longer?

Checkout time is 12:00.

Well, that's an hour

and 20 minutes.

You're not telling me I have to

wait an hour and 20 minutes, are you?

This is just

making it longer.

Come on, come on. Right around here.

Right here should be fine.

Yeah, I'm checking out.

Joe Flynn.

Slim! Slim!

Slim? Slim, hey.

Oh, hello, Kitty.

There's a phone call

for you from Washington.

Am I invisible? I've been standing here

for a half an hour!

- You can use the phone

on the desk right there.

- All right.

Hello?

Hi. I'm Anne Eisenhower from the Houston

Chronicle. I should have a reservation.

and the only person

still living...

who can give Saint Laurent

colour tips.

Slim, we've missed you

so very much...

- since you've, uh, retired from Vogue.

- Really?

I'm a sports reporter, for Christ's

sake! I don't know dick about fashion.

You're all

we got, pal. Now, Matthews wants...

Oh, for God's sake! I gotta leave

Paris. You gotta use the f***in' wire.

- This is a big story.

- What's so special about this dead guy?

What's his name?

The dead guy!

- De la Fontaine. Olivier

de la Fontaine. Got that?

- Yeah, right. Do me a favour.

Call my wife.

She's not gonna believe me.

- F***in' cocksuckers!

- Here's the key to your room.

Whoa, whoa. New ball game. I-I-I'm

not checking out. I'm not checking out.

- What'd you say?

- No, I'm not checking out.

I'm not leaving. I'm staying.

- But you can't.

This lady has just checked in.

- This is my room.

- No, this is my room.

- You'll have to find the lady

another room, I'm sorry.

- Sorry, there is no other room.

- Excuse me. You clearly don't

understand. This is my room.

- We do have a problem, I'm sorry.

- You don't understand

the day that I've had.

- I've lost my luggage...

- You don't understand!

I haven't checked out!

- See, I have not checked out!

- I'm covering the fashion...

Well, do we have any fashion plans

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