Oh, Mr Rose!

April 21, 2008 at 7:33 am (Uncategorized)

I lost my virginity on Friday night. Not virginity of a sexual kind – no, that was a long time ago in circumstances that don’t bear repeating – but the luxe shirt variety instead. Didn’t know there was such a thing? Well, permit me to educate you.

Unlike the time I lost my actual virginity, Friday night involved beautiful roses displayed abundantly about the room, atmospheric lighting, silken fabrics, French champagne, and soft music. It seems the dapper Mr Rose is quite the seduction artiste. All around me was beauty, and it was intoxicating. I wanted to settle in for the night, and so I did.

I was not alone, Mr Rose attracting the attentions of many a woman about town in recent months, and for whom his charms have quickly proven irresistible. His already potent popularity is set to soar, too, now he has his very own super sexy store… Yes, we’re talking about shirts here. Shirts, but not as we know them.

If I were able, I’d dress exclusively in Mr Rose shirts. Oh, if only. Sigh. I’ve always been a shirt lover, so it’s not so very surprising that Mr Rose and I were so hot and heavy on Friday night. I was putty in his Swiss Cotton hands. But these shirts, goodness, they made my heart race so! The label is the brainchild of a good friend of ours, a quality item herself, Sophie Toohey. Then there’s Bespoke by Sasha, a stunning, hand-crafted range of rose-inspired accessories. A room teeming with gorgeousness: that’s Mr Rose’s first home.

Yes, the Mr Rose boutique is officially open for business, and you’ll find the great women behind the mysterious man at 31 Norfolk St, Paddington (corner of Gurner St, near Five Ways). I wanted to be good. I meant to behave. I went with every intention of looking but not touching because… well, I can’t afford it. But surely that’s why the retail gods invented VISA?! Remember Veronica, from the Archie comics? One of my favourite comics was when Mr Lodge stormed through their mansion fuming and brandishing an enormous stack of credit card bills at his over-spending, shopaholic daughter.

“Who do you think has to PAY for all this???” he screams.

Veronica looks at her spluttering father, glances at the bills in his hands with the look of an innocent angel, and then says mildly, “Someone has to pay?”

I love that comic, I’ve remembered it faithfully since I was a child. And it came back to me as clear as day as I held out my champagne flute for another glass of Veuve. Sometimes being a girl is just like that, and sometimes even good girls are very, very bad.

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