i get invited to the opening of the new holt renfrew in vancouver.
it's not really my kind of event but I figure what the hay, it's a tuesday night.
three floors of designer clothes, fab food and all the champagne and martinis one could consume. what more could a girl ask for.
i'm standing blinking in front of a shelf of four digit designer bags that look like something that would scare jane jetson, when i see dave navarro.
he's making his way into the store, spinning this way and that to avoid the grabbing hands and pushy photographers.
he hasn't been there five minutes and he's already sub-human celebrity fodder.
he scans the crowd wildly until he lands on one of his peeps.
you can see the slack in the lifeline tighten in his eyes.
he makes his way through the crowd and brushes my dress as he passes, trailing a sweet aroma of fresh rain.
the wave of dave moves like a school of minnows weaving in and out of the display cases, towards the back of the room.
i immediately head for the abandoned chocolate table.
a little while later i'm leaning against a counter of men's colognes, trying to figure out what the rain aroma was i'd smelled earlier, when i look up to see mr. navarro standing in front of me.
my temperature shoots up by 10 degrees and all research goes out the window, so the sales girl takes it upon herself to ask mr. navarro directly.
he wants to know who is enquiring.
she graciously points in my direction.
thanks.
i give a small feeble wave and smile as the blood rushes to my head.
he stands there talking about his "natural scent" and all i can think of is the mess i'll make when the holes he's burning with his smoldering eyes finally explode my body.
the sales girl later mops me off the floor and asks, with an enormous smile, if i'm happy she did what she did.
"who is that guy anyway?" she asks.
"he's a chili pepper" i say.
she smiles, cocks her head to one side and walks away.
i have to admit though, it was nice to meet him. i spend the rest of the evening marveling over my "prince-like" encounter, happy to file the memory away at the end of the day with all the other men with celery stick waistlines that just make me crave meat-n-potatoes
moot or hooey?
jane's addiction got its name from all four band members who were simultaneously dating obsessive women with the name jane
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