fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months. -oscar wilde-

A coupla nights ago, I had to attend this pish posh banquet held in one of the most exclusive locations in kl. I went there on a media pass and I brought along giant.

The event was filled with overdressed datins, but this article is about one particular datin wannabe. She is not even a real somebody or somebody’s significant other or of any real significance to anybody for that matter. She is one of those who tried to hang about the in crowd in hopes that some of the glam will rub off onto her.

I am not too sure of her function in that banquet. My best guess is that she is some celebrity stalker who got pass the guards at the entrance some way or another. But I can tell you this: she was not just dressed to kill, she donned enough make up to give wacko jacko a total makeover and enough cloth to make a cushion cover.

Now, she is not all that shapely but she wore this kebaya top whose fabric strands were on the verge of textile suicide. Underneath the kebaya top, she wore a super, mega padded bra that would make Madonna envious. I kid you not, her boobs looked like plastic cones. This whole do was matched with an a-line skirt which fell until directly in front of her shins in a knee high slit right in front i.e. between her legs.

I sat at the media table with the rest of the journalists and photographers. She hung around the back of the room, socialising with must be other wannabes but with more subdues outfits.

When the event started, the photographers got up and started work, taking pictures of the v.i.p.s and their speeches and all. There was a performance and all. That was when the wannabe and her friends crept in and sat at the photographers temporarily vacant seats. A few of us mentioned that the seats were occupied but the replies were just “really?” and a blinding smile followed on cue by a group giggle. I swear I just wished the sprinkler system would just flip on at that moment so I could watch all that paint melt off her face.

The photographers were still working when the attendants removed the lids of the silver food cauldron. They were still serving the rice and getting ladles for the dishes when the wannabe got all excited and used her own spoon to start scooping the dishes straight into her lipstick coated mouth. Mind you, it was a prawn that she took, complete with shell and head. But when she realised this, it was too late and the rest of us had to watch as she spat the poor prawn onto her plate. Padan muka.

Eventually, of course, the photographers came back and having no place to sit, most of did not take the dinner. So kesian. Some of them sat at tables where people had already finished eating and ate leftovers. The wannabes on my table did not get up after they finished eating, instead they started chatting among themselves and ordered more coffee.

Then, when the people started getting up and socialising, these wannabes started swarning the datuks and datin, squeezing themselves into their conversations and laughing along.

These sorta people really exist. I am infuriated, but at the same time I am amazed! I shall certainly look out for these people on my other assignments involving the rich and the richers.

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