I ran into Lara Stone, Friday evening on Harley Street. She has flourished my bedroom wall with her gap-toothed snarl for advertising campaigns Givenchy, Belstaff and Jil Sander and she's the one who walks with the infamous wobbly gait at Prada and Calvin Klein shows, and has stolen my heart for four years. Furiously smoking on a cigarette Lara was standing outside the Harley Street Surgical Clinic engrossed in her phone conversation; gap-tooth baring and all. Harley Street is renowned for it's surgeries, dentistry and doctors, so no doubt it came across our minds she was either having her teeth whitenened or getting liposuction done.
I called 'Lara! Lara!' she turned around and smiled sweetly and pointed to her phone and mouthed 'I'm so sorry!,' and rushed into the building. My friend was not at all convinced it was Lara Stone, for she was dressed casually and candid in a Fur jacket and skinny jeans fresh-faced and hair pulled back tighly, but i could recognise the deep dutch drawl arguing on the phone and i forced Tushy to wait outside the clinic in the freezing cold; we joked about the many surgical prospects to pass the time.