Thursday, January 28, 2010

The social scene, Part 2

More characters to be found around and about the scene in South Africa...


Avoid the gym bunny especially around mealtimes. They are completely obsessed with food and gyming and will spoil any meal for others. Don't try to change the subject when they are harping on about their gym routine or the lettuce leaf which they had for lunch (o my, delicious!). Don't try to have an interesting conversation as they will immediately and firmly steer the conversation back to themselves. It's all about them. They will tell you in minute detail exactly how long they spent on the treadmill, what their personal trainer told them to eat and what not to eat (most things, including chocolate), how bad gorgeous food is for you, how many calories they consumed that day. Your eyes glaze over and you nearly fall down with boredom. You never ever ever want to see the inside of a gym if it has people like that in it. It's kind of like childless people who don't want to be around people who do have little darlings, the Walking Contraceptive kind that is (see further down on the list). Yummy mummies, beauty contestants and would be Sex in the City girls over 40 tend to be complete gym junkies. Are there any women out there who LUUUUURRRVE their food, make no apologies for it, excercise discreetly and quietly and don't believe in being a complete bore all the time?


The designer brat is not at the top of his or her game because he/she is particularly good or talented. Usually it's because they have rich friends who patronise them or spread the good word on them. The designer brat quickly becomes the most obnoxious person in the fashion pack, almost overnight. It's scary. They do have power and influence because, as I say, they have rich friends or clients. They dress the part too. Designer brats usually wear their Own Label, with sunglasses. Sunglasses are very much part of the designer brat's wardrobe and all the twittering fashionistas will slavishly copy them and wear them in the middle of the night. It must be to ward off all those popping flashbulbs (those damned tabloids, it's such a bore). Designer brats make up a lot of their own publicity, some of which is soooo not true. Sometimes designer brats fall off their perch and have to go to earth, designing clothes for factories or the new Cosatu line for fall. It's sad when that happens. Sometimes they don't recover, sometimes they crawl their way back because people still remember their names from old magazines. Usually it's best if designer brats decide that their talent is required "overseas" where Vogue beckons enticingly and they envisage a little Parisien atelier for themselves. Then we can get rid of them. Yay.


I was once in a Woolworths with two 12-year-olds going on 45 behind me and a Sandton mommy in tow. They looked me over coolly from head to toe and decided I was retrenched schoolteacher material, ripe for the insulting. The one nudged the other, and pointed to my hat (I love my hat and never travel without one). "Mary Poppins!" she said sotto voce, so Sandton Mommy couldn't hear. I pounced. "You should patent your children as walking contraceptives," I told her, pointing at the offending offspring. "You could make a LOT of money." I don't know if she took my advice, but every time I see an obnoxious child I think of those two. It's true, some children are just plain offputting, especially when they haven't been brought up right. Nice children are a delight and a joy for ever, a lot of hard work has gone into making them that way. Nice children really are children, not vicious little Lolitas who have not a shred of innocence. Blame the parents, it's all their fault. And laws that state that you may not smack your child. Sometimes a good smack, not just a threatening, works wonders. It ensures that your child will never be called a walking contraceptive by some mean lady in a hat in the queue at Woolies.

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