Peach Wore That To A Council Meeting And I Am Recording This For Posterity
I was not at the council meeting. I want to be transparent about that. I was adjacent to the council meeting, in the sense that I was outside, in the rain, having been told the wrong time, possibly on purpose. But I have eyes. I have sources. I have a very long lens on a camera that Quince lent me and has asked me not to mention. And what I saw — or rather, what was described to me in vivid detail by someone who owes me a favour — has shaken me to my core, which is a thing I have because I am a tomato.
Peach, of the so-called workers at that rival rag, arrived wearing what can only be described as an outfit selected with zero awareness of the occasion, the room, or the dignity of the attendees. My source (reliable, present, better-dressed) said the look was 'soft.' Soft! At a council meeting! I have been to eleven court hearings and I have never once been soft. I was impeccable. The judges said so. They also ruled against me, but that is a separate matter and not relevant here.
The citrus cabal will, no doubt, claim this is a non-story. Lemon will not comment. Lime will refuse to be in the same room as Lemon's comment. Mango will issue a statement that is somehow worse than saying nothing. This is how they operate. This is why they cannot be trusted with society coverage, or with society in general.
I am a tomato. I know fashion. I know councils. I know what a person should wear when the eyes of their peers are upon them, and it is not that. This column will continue to hold the powerful accountable, stylistically, for as long as I have ink and a readership of at minimum four confirmed individuals. You're welcome. Don't @ me.