Post # 2: Out takes from a recent interview with Marc Jacobs

So I interviewed Marc Jacobs recently. And droned on in my copy about how fit and healthy he looked. So HOW RETARDED do I feel now, upon hearing the news that, seven days after our meeting, he admitted himself to rehab?

I like to think I have sufficiently honed powers of observation to tell when someone has a raging banana habit.

Not that Marc Jacobs has one of those. Oh no.

It's oranges, actually.

I can't type the words I actually want incase he sues for libel, obviously, but in truth I honestly don't know what particular drug - sorry, fruit - drove Marc to rehab: all I know is that he has "battled" (newspaper always say "battled") orange and banana addictions in the past, and that this is on record, ergo me repeating it isn't libellous. I am not suggesting for one moment that Marc Jacobs is a banana or orange addict. And anyway, for all I know, he has moved on to raspberries instead. Or even pears.

Even so, I do feel a little bit cheated. Like, why didn't he confide his problems to me, a perfectly trustworthy human being who just happens to work as a journalist on a newspaper? Why did he sit there and tell me that he went to the gym seven days a week and was (and I quote) "in the best physical shape that I've ever been"?

In common with all the other fashion editors who scrape a living writing about slouchy trousers, I have a total soft spot for Marc. Marc, if you're reading (yeah, right), WE ALL DO. WHY DO YOU NEED TO FIND LOVE IN ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES WHEN YOU HAVE THE REAL, GENUINE LOVE OF SEVERAL HUNDRED LOUBOUTIN-CLAD LOVELIES INSTEAD?

(I love writing in capitals but I'm not allowed to in the Standard because it is not House Style.)

Here, on my blog, I feel FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

I was going to post some out-takes from the Marc interview that there wasn't room for in the Standard, but then I thought - hang on. Why would I, when I don't know if anyone wants to read them? So you have to tell me if you want to read them before I post them. That's the beauty of blogging.

But wait. What if nobody wants to read them? Will I fall into an existential crisis about my writing and question the very nature of my career choice? I never thought of that. If nobody posts comments about your blog, does that mean you shouldn't bother writing one?

Tell me what you think.

And dearest Marc, please be aware, wherever you are (Arizona, I think, among the cacti), that thousands of fashion folks just love you, want the best for you and want you to get well soon. At least before you have to design your next collection. We want a new Stam, for chrissakes.