she doesn’t seem too happy with the pungent odors, either. The sight of Chintzy’s edible wares must be causing her sensory overload. I can tell by the deliberate way Anna keeps folding her promo pamphlets, as if she has obsessive-compulsive disorder. Anna turns up her nose, whispering furtively to her disciples, who are as skinny as she is and also dressed in black. She’s probably nervous about her whole campaign going up in smoke, even though in Anna’s case that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Meanwhile, Moet Major, whose table is to the left of Anna Rex’s, prances up and down the hall, showing off her new black satin baseball jacket with HOUSE OF MOET embroidered on the back in golden letters.
“A little presumptuous, no?” I hiss.
Felinez shakes her head in agreement. She’s freaking out, too: she worked so hard over the past week supplying us with our treats—namely, matching babydoll T-shirts with our slogan emblazoned on the front in fuchsia letters: STYLE SHOULD MAKE YOU PURR . Felinez also made Angora a blue catsuit so stretchy it yawns and a purple one for Aphro, as well as matching catty masks with tinted plucky whiskers. Now Angora is opening up her powder blue travel bag on wheels, chirping away anxiously—another one of her nervous habits.
“You dragged that on the bus?” Aphro asks, impressed.
Angora hates the subway and the scurrilous furry friends who hang out on the train tracks like crew. As a matter of facto, she won’t set foot down under unless she’s with us; otherwise, she travels everywhere on the bus. Considering the route Angora takes to school—straight down Broadway—it’s not a bad idea. She lives with her father on Eighty-ninth Street off Riverside Drive, an area that has the added green benefit of Riverside Park right by her tootsies. Even after two years, Angora is still getting used to the city and all its noise.
The mention of a bus has obviously jarred her memory about her morning jaunt. “Have you ever beenon one of these new, super-long buses? I mean, I don’t know about all that snaking around,” Angora starts in. “Those buses are sooo long, they scare me. I actually don’t think the front of the bus knows what the back is doing all the time.” Angora sways from side to side to make her point as she pulls a huge bag of furry items out of her bag. We watch in amazement. She really should be a reporter. I could even see her doing the weather:
It’s raining Dolce and Gabbana booties today
, mes chéries!
“What have you whipped up like a soufflé today?” Felinez asks, imitating Angora.
“Okay, I thought this would be
très
adorable—they’re fur balls for the wrist or the hair. They go with our feline fatale message,” Angora says, her eyes widening, which means she wants our approval. I pick up one of the fluffy pink pom-poms on an elastic band with a paper tag attached to it that says in tiny letters: EARN YOUR PURR POINTS TODAY .
“Fur balls, get it? Rouge tried to eat one this morning. Like the ones she spits up aren’t big enough!” Angora’s cat, Rouge, has a finicky system: she is constantly coughing up something or sniffling from allergies, and only bottled water touches that finicky tongue.
Felinez spurts out what I’m thinking: “
Mija
, this must have cost a lot, no?”
Suddenly I feel guilty. Angora is down for our cause, so how could I snap at her even if her father does havefunny money to funnel for furry excesses. I guess I would be jealous if Angora didn’t despise her psychotically perfect control freak of a mother so much.
“They kept me up all night,” Angora says proudly.
“
Tan
coolio,” coos Felinez, arranging the fur balls on the table so we can get on with our flow.
Suddenly, the cackling from the corner table reaches a high pitch. I glance down the hallway and stare involuntarily at Shalimar as she shimmers away in her metallic gray turtleneck minidress. Her friend Zirconia is wearing a matching sweater
Meanwhile, Moet Major, whose table is to the left of Anna Rex’s, prances up and down the hall, showing off her new black satin baseball jacket with HOUSE OF MOET embroidered on the back in golden letters.
“A little presumptuous, no?” I hiss.
Felinez shakes her head in agreement. She’s freaking out, too: she worked so hard over the past week supplying us with our treats—namely, matching babydoll T-shirts with our slogan emblazoned on the front in fuchsia letters: STYLE SHOULD MAKE YOU PURR . Felinez also made Angora a blue catsuit so stretchy it yawns and a purple one for Aphro, as well as matching catty masks with tinted plucky whiskers. Now Angora is opening up her powder blue travel bag on wheels, chirping away anxiously—another one of her nervous habits.
“You dragged that on the bus?” Aphro asks, impressed.
Angora hates the subway and the scurrilous furry friends who hang out on the train tracks like crew. As a matter of facto, she won’t set foot down under unless she’s with us; otherwise, she travels everywhere on the bus. Considering the route Angora takes to school—straight down Broadway—it’s not a bad idea. She lives with her father on Eighty-ninth Street off Riverside Drive, an area that has the added green benefit of Riverside Park right by her tootsies. Even after two years, Angora is still getting used to the city and all its noise.
The mention of a bus has obviously jarred her memory about her morning jaunt. “Have you ever beenon one of these new, super-long buses? I mean, I don’t know about all that snaking around,” Angora starts in. “Those buses are sooo long, they scare me. I actually don’t think the front of the bus knows what the back is doing all the time.” Angora sways from side to side to make her point as she pulls a huge bag of furry items out of her bag. We watch in amazement. She really should be a reporter. I could even see her doing the weather:
It’s raining Dolce and Gabbana booties today
, mes chéries!
“What have you whipped up like a soufflé today?” Felinez asks, imitating Angora.
“Okay, I thought this would be
très
adorable—they’re fur balls for the wrist or the hair. They go with our feline fatale message,” Angora says, her eyes widening, which means she wants our approval. I pick up one of the fluffy pink pom-poms on an elastic band with a paper tag attached to it that says in tiny letters: EARN YOUR PURR POINTS TODAY .
“Fur balls, get it? Rouge tried to eat one this morning. Like the ones she spits up aren’t big enough!” Angora’s cat, Rouge, has a finicky system: she is constantly coughing up something or sniffling from allergies, and only bottled water touches that finicky tongue.
Felinez spurts out what I’m thinking: “
Mija
, this must have cost a lot, no?”
Suddenly I feel guilty. Angora is down for our cause, so how could I snap at her even if her father does havefunny money to funnel for furry excesses. I guess I would be jealous if Angora didn’t despise her psychotically perfect control freak of a mother so much.
“They kept me up all night,” Angora says proudly.
“
Tan
coolio,” coos Felinez, arranging the fur balls on the table so we can get on with our flow.
Suddenly, the cackling from the corner table reaches a high pitch. I glance down the hallway and stare involuntarily at Shalimar as she shimmers away in her metallic gray turtleneck minidress. Her friend Zirconia is wearing a matching sweater
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