In the midst of the LFW madness, Mommy and I snuck away from the melee of Somerset House to join my fabulous friend Roland Mouret for a glass (or mini bowl, in my case) of champers at his new flagship store at 8 Carlos Place. I must say, I have a soft spot for handsome Frenchmen, and Roland (proud father to Jack Russel Dave) really knows how to handle a posh dog or two. Scratching me in just the right spots and tickling my tummy, when Roland had to get up and leave us to go for a fitting, I nearly let my killer bark resound throughout the shop in defiance. But on account of his fabulousness and this fashion dog's innate understanding of how to play the game, especially in the runup to his Paris runway show, instead, I just nudged mommy to insist that she pick off where he left off. Roland, mon amour, I'll see you in Paris!
I think they've made some really fascinating points. people do not really think about it too much direction did. In fact, more than I had known before the time we got through his excellent blog. I have no doubt including a disturbed mind, and who have attended our needs above.
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