April 9, 2014 |
She’s a London PR powerhouse will a well-known obsession with all things Chanel. She’s en route to Paris, asleep on the Eurostar, snoring her tits off, trucker cap pulled down low over visage. Pulling into the Gare du Nord, the train comes to a shuddering halt. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, from the luggage rack above her head, swings her sequined Chanel handbag, smacking her straight in the face with a resounding thwack. Now that’s what’s known as a wake-up call. More effective than an alarm clock.
