Dear Babe,
I have had a revelation while studying for my French final (80 mg of Aderall into a kale smoothie). I’ve decided to file everyone in my life as chic/not chic and even though I’ve scoured your book/blog, I need some basic guidelines to act as a backbone for who gets the boot/cut-off. So if you could please please (ew, double pleasing is not chic but I hope you get the urgency) respond to the following so I can move on with my life…
Merci Beaucoup!
XO
K****
Dear Desperate,
I’m going to humor you and do this, but only because I’m stoned. Here we go:
Would you rather:
Angie (circa now) or Jen (circa friends/Brad Pitt/not pathetic phase)?
Angie. Always.
Joey, Chandler, or Ross?
Threesome with Chandler and Joey.
Marry Ryan Gosling or look like Gwyneth (forever)?
Fuck you for this Sophie’s Choice-esque question. I suppose there can only be one Gwyneth, so I’d marry Ryan. There would be tears of sadness on the wedding day, and I would probably live the rest of my life resenting him, but resentment can be great fuel for staying thin and working out.
Vintage Chanel or Straight-off-the-runway Chanel?
Vintage. Have you seen recent Chanel? I MEAN.
Prince William (home wrecker) or Prince Harry (possible ginger kids)?
Prince Harry. Duh. I’m sure there’s child-friendly hair dye in case our offspring’s mane requires a makeover.
You’re welcome, psycho.