JENNY LOPEZ HAS A BAD WEEK: AN I HEART SHORT STORY. Lindsey Kelk

You couldn’t be hotter than them, but you had to make some kind of an effort. I settled on skinny black James Jeans pants and a black-and-white striped Rag and Bone tank top with my comfy black YSL Tribute 90 pumps. I was useless in flats. Throwing my Balenciaga motorcycle bag (a well-deserved gift I treated myself to from my old LA roommate’s collection) over my shoulder, I looked myself over in the mirror, gave myself an approving nod and moved over to my dressing table. And so to the make-up.

      Sadie’s driver buzzed my cell just as I was walking through a light spritz of Gucci Guilty.

      ‘I’m coming,’ I said out loud. One more look in the mirror and I was out of the door. The sparkling black town car whisked me through the streets of Manhattan, all the way uptown. Erin was holding her event at The Union but Sadie was staying at The Hudson.

      ‘First time you’ve worked with Sadie?’ the driver asked me as we rounded the corner of 57th Street.

      ‘Yep.’ I checked my tasteful make-up in my powder compact and pressed my lips together to refresh my gloss. ‘I hear she’s a handful.’