Macca came to town for the weekend, fresh from the Toronto Film Fest fair thingo, and she hooked up with some friends who took us to an art gallery opening in Chelsea. The headlining artist was Malcolm McLaren, yes, THE Malcolm McLaren, who had two sexually motivated installations that defied description....until he struck up conversation with Anna and gave her the explicit descriptions personally. Let's just say someone had to comb through a lot of 60s porn to put those particular works together. All a bit disjointed coming from a man wearing pastel blue cashmere sweater, boxer shorts and sensible Oxfords.
We were also celebrating Anne's first night out alone since Annabelle was born: momentous, and she kept it together without the anxious home dialling. Everyone was happy.
More photos on Flickr.
Mum and Allan are in New York this week and I am in LA doing user research. Figures! (Luckily they're coming back in a week or so after their Laurentians cruise.) I've been finding out what people think about traffic and road directions here. Listening to Los Angelinos talk about traffic is like Londoners talking about the weather, or New Yorkers talking about their rent. Its totally put me off ever living here, apart from the whole 'its Los Angeles' thing.
Flickr badge
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I can't believe Macca met Macca (of the McLaren variety). A few envious folk back home in Oz. And ACE news about you and Juz finding a home sweet home.
Fifi M-P
Post a Comment