Fugtory Girl


Inside a Factory Girl party, Anna Wintour is caught out without her signature huge dark sunglasses, and remembers too late that half the reason she needs them is because she has no poker face.

SIENNA: Oh, bollocks, look at THAT, it’s Anna Wintour! Editor of Vogue! Isn’t it amazing that we’re both here together — a total fashion icon on one side, and Anna Wintour on the other!

ANNA: …

SIENNA: Look, Anna babe, I’ve got this fab idea for your cover. It’s gonna be me, right? Wearing THIS: a fuzzy sweater and nothing but tights as pants. It’ll be, like, neanderthal lady meets Shakespeare. But with some serious control top.

ANNA: …

SIENNA: Of course I don’t need control top, Anna! It just keeps my bits warm for whoever gets them later. Between you and me, I’m thinking maybe the Harry Potter lads. Several of them, actually.

ANNA: …

SIENNA: Anyway, your cover with me is going to make everyone talk, you know, because EVERYONE will be wearing this soon enough and I’m offering YOU the chance to be at the front of the line.

ANNA: …

SIENNA: By the way, I really like your coat, can I borrow it? I’d like to cut it up into one of these shirts, and then maybe make a pair of furry trousers out of it that I can wear once everyone ELSE is wearing control-top tights-pants, and I suddenly become incredibly bored with them.

ANNA: …

SIENNA: Come on, Winty, give us something more than just a robotic smile. Are you thinking about how to express how avant-garde I am? Or are you just speechlessly pleased to find someone who understands fashion even more than you do? Or do you want to have a go at my tights-pants? Come on, let’s hit the Ladies, you can slip them on.

ANNA: … Repulsive. Repulsive. You are an utterly ridiculous girl.

SIENNA: Er… uh, what? Sorry, can’t hear you, babe! Too loud in here. Anyway, must dash. I see a camera over there that I haven’t hit up yet. Kiss kiss!

ANNA: Somebody fire her. Immediately.

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