I wasn’t really in the mood for much socialising but I happened to run into ‘everybody’. My former best friend’s other best friend, Benjie Benjie (Benjamin Clutterback) is in his early sixties and behaves like a gay teenager. He is devoted to those old rich ladies that always have one degree of separation from a retaliation of fame and glory (such as Capote, Vidal or Vreeland) but have not talent themselves. It was good to see him, to see him…good!


So I turned to the art and the huge Murakamis, Hirsts and so on are so boring. So I decided to look at men but all these places seem to be populated by these hairless cod-like English public school wannabes who look like clones. Of course they have not much to say but when they say, God, they make sure you hear the accent. I started talking to one of them and he said: ‘Do you know Gavin Turk?’. I said: ‘Yes’. He said: ‘Last night he was home for supper’. I said: ‘Really, how thrilling’ (See? I can be English when I want). And that was it. So I took my plate and I went with the Datnows to another room and I ran into people whose face I’ve seen before but who seemed far too excited to see me. I know that last year I indulged maybe too much in substances but at this point, I should have already started recognising these faces. The truth is that these parties have become a microcosmos of VIP-wannabes that hang around without really interacting or buying anything at all. It is a place where identity should be constructed but it is evaporating very quickly like a dream.


I think I have seen Benjie every time I’ve been to Sotheby’s. Having said that, I don’t think he ever bought or sold anything through them. Who is dealing with their mailing list? What is the point? I think the real people (and I count myself amongst them) are tired of it and just prefer to stay home and watch a DVD. Just a thought.