Diary of a Fashion Muse: Notes from a Diva

December 7, 2004
After a swim in my glass bath with underwater lights, I start the day trying to find something to wear. I change three times, deciding on a McQueen dress that zips up either side, quite erotic. Adding beautiful black Manolo satin sandals, my signature Philip Treacy hat to sculpt the face, and a Fendi Fur.
Black cab to the Tatler office. (Taxis: great for a snog in the back!) En route happen to drop by Make Up For Ever on South Molton Street, where a wonderful Floriane transforms my face.
Vogue House Caf. Am a few minutes late for coffee with Jess (young, sexy, blond bombshell assistant), who regales me with stories of goings on in London. Follow with Hannah Starkey (art photographer), who wants to photograph transvestites from behind, in urinals in South Kensington. Potential Tatler fashion story? Discuss future ideas with Leon St. Amour, the Lion of Love, a talented young designer.
Trot across Regent Street with Jess to beautiful olde English Tudor store Liberty's for a Christmas decoration trolley dash. I am on a hunt for silver and blue decorations for my 12-foot tree at my husbands Gloustershire country house. Trail of decoration debris due to fabulous Givenchy couture coat sweeping baubles off the display trees.
Back in the office, the phones are ringing nonstop. Added drama ensues as one half of Londons hottest new photographic duo Sean + Seng is escorted off the trans-Atlantic flight while wearing a metallic tent and leggings, without a visa, while the other (not the technical one) is left to shoot solo our March fashion story in the middle of the Californian desert. Broken marriage.
Cocktails before lunch (after a quick change into a laser-cut snakeskin McQueen suit). Head to Claridges, the most elegant hotel and my second home. The doorman, Martin, keeps me up to date on the gossip (handily opposite my favorite restaurant, Cipriani).
I am lunching with Jess and Paolo, the PR guru from Bvlgari; we are his girls. Topics over lunch are massive jewels, hotels in Bali, and scrutinizing the Cipriani clientele. The food is delicious!
Taxi across town for a personal fitting by Alexander McQueen at his East London base. In the couture studio I am reprimanded by him for gesticulating: Fucking ell, Issy, keep still and stop talking!
Am hosting an early evening soiree for Sean Leane, a fantastic jewelry designer, to launch his fine jewelry collection. Another change with the addition of Seans diamonds. I feel like I am walking into a galleried aviary, as the room is filled with beautiful birds of the black-feathered variety and Jess bedecked in red lipstick for contrast. Great friends show their support, including Elton John and David Furnish, whose jewelry rivals mine.