God, am I glad I went to this! Thankfully, the sky had rained itself out by sun-up, so I climbed on my trusty pink Schwinn and peddled over to the Bryant Park Hotel on Sunday. I parked the bike and walked through Bryant Park, which was packed with people noshing and enjoying the fab weather. I passed a photographer from PMc past, who, though enjoying a beverage and basking in the sun, was bemoaning the lack of celebrities. Poor baby. Really poor baby since, just as I crossed the front of the entrance to the tents, ANNA was click-clacking down the steps to the street. The bob and glasses were in place and she was wearing a colorful yellow summery cotton full bell-ish skirt. This was topped with a white man’s shirt. Maybe it was Shelby’s. Got to the hotel and shocked the person with the list because I was the only person who had arrived thus far who was actually on the list. He was very happy about that. I went to the top floor and the suite (called “the Loft”) was FILLED with wonderful things. There were lots of pretty undies and sleepwear on forms, a table with make-up on it, another makeup table that seemed to be there to apply makeup, a table of turkey club sandwiches and two women sitting at those massage contraptions you see at street fairs. A terrific woman immediately approached me. She took me on the tour. I was familiar with most of the clothing because I am a customer of Victoria’s Secret. Their goodies have gotten much lovelier over the years and they actually survive life. Also, my husband is a HUGE fan of their goods. And people wonder how I’ve stayed married as long as I have (Hahaha). Thank you, Victoria! So, since I had just picked up some little somethin’ somethings very recently, I had seen most of what was in the suite. However, there’s a killer full-length nightgown with bows and a KILLER ankle-length boned half slip that is fitted until the knees, where it flounced out in lots of lace ruffles. Yummy. The make up has also gotten SO much better. The collection by Heidi Klum is great, so I guess she won’t get voted off the island or fired or not given a rose or whatever one would do on a make-up reality show to rid themselves of you. Besides softly murmuring, “Auf wiedersehen”, that is. Maybe erase you with a giant concealer? Oy. Anyway… I was offered my choice of boy shorts, a mauvy purple charmeuse slip/nightie or a peachy chiffon slip/nightie. My husband HATES boy shorts on ME and the charmeuse slip was something I almost purchased the week before. So, I chose that. I also got a ton of makeup. Great stuff, too. Metallic eye liners in “Hot Bronze” and “Chrome” (silver), a great duo of rationally pink blushes, one matt and one frosted (I got “Runway”), a shimmery gold lip gloss duo (“Show”), a smoky deep bronze eye shadow with a glimmer gold cream half (“Catwalk”) and a giant bottle of perfume, Very Sexy Dare. My husband will love that because it’s citrusy. They also gave me a pink plastic card with my name on it, that I think (I HOPE) is a gift card. What a great goodie bag! Then, I helped myself to a quarter sandwich. Yummy. I loved watching another woman carefully deconstruct hers so that NO BREAD SHALL PASS HER LIPS!!!!!! She’s a smarter woman than I am. (sob) So, off I went, back to my bike. As I peddled east on 40th St., I saw a gang of photographers going NUTS with flashes and screaming and running all over the place backwards. I focused on the prey and saw that it was Uma Thurman and, I assume, her finance, Arpad Busson. He has two sons with Elle Macpherson, so this VERY rich Swiss dude knows from pretty women. If that was Busson, he’s pleasantly sorta chubby. Cute. Uma was wearing tight black pants and a black shirt and BEGGING the photographers to give them some peace. I just read that she’s rumored to be preggers. She sure didn’t look that way to me. But, then again, I was just passing by. Too bad that photographer didn’t stick with me. He might have had a better day. My husband did. (And I deeply apologize for TMI and any gnarly visuals you might be suffering from that bit of sharing. Forgive me.)