I know I said it was my last word, but I'm obsessed, OK? Every single newspaper has run a story on Friday's big party for Helene Hegemann's eighteenth birthday and belated book launch, in the former technoland legend Tresor.
Cinderella here wasn't invited, despite having listened in on at least two excited conversations about it beforehand. But, you know, that's OK, I went to Tresor once in the 90s and it was kind of underwhelming. I probably would have just ignored the pink-and-black invitation proclaiming which movie stars and theatre directors were going to be DJing anyway. And who wants to stand in a queue in the rain with hundreds of journos and publishing folk? Let alone eat candyfloss under a giant papier-maché axolotl or try and make out what the writer and her friend read on stage over all the malicious gossip in the background.
At least I can revel in the illusion that I'm just too damn underground to get an invite.