July 24, 2018 |
Everybody, meet my friend Vicky. She’s the terribly chic brunette sipping on a San Pellegrino in the corner. Born in Paris but raised on her art dealing mother’s private jet, Vicky (short for Victoire) is a woman of the world, but one that never allows you to forget her native language is French. For example, she’ll always greet you with a “Bonsoir!” – regardless of what time of the day it is. When she’s not continent-hopping with a group of fabulous gal-pals (Kate, LouLou and Niki) Vicky loves to relax by Facetiming Sophia the Robot. She’s a modern girl, you know? Her other interests include having bubbly baths with old Jean Renoir films (her favourite one is La Grande Illusion) playing in the background and collecting one-of-a-kind post-WWII moto-helmets which she counts as a method of dealing with her tachophobia. Vicky is the kinda girl you simply need at your party – she’ll never get in a fight, but will always ensure to make a point regardless of the conversation topic. Vicky is not a dancer, but her elegant swaying will definitely get the people on the dance floor. And at the peak time, she’ll just evaporate, Irish goodbye-style. She’s cool, but not too pretentious, fabulously dressed and timelessly chic. Vicky is the talk of the town – her shiny gold monogram included.
