"The Corset Diaries" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAlister Katie)

Airplane over Canada




Well, I’m here. On a plane. Flying to London to meet an old friend who has arranged for me to take part in something I’m sure I’ll regret. But damn, the money is just too good to refuse, especially for someone who makes a (pitiful and never enough to cover the bills) living finding baby boomers’ roots for them. I’m taking Pierce’s advice and starting a new journal, which you know if you’re reading this, because that means I survived this “social history experiment,” one I suspect is going to be nothing so much as hell for me.

I am not a corset-wearing sort of person, despite my avid interest in history. And a duchess? Ha! I bet there’s not one single duchess who had to max out her credit cards to prepay her bills for the next month.

I will say that this Roger d’Aspry, television producer and former Hollywood plaything, is very well organized. The rule book that Pierce overnighted to me is utterly fascinating. I dug out a couple of Victorian etiquette books I bought on eBay (the researcher’s best friend) and double-checked a couple of the items that jumped out at me, but they were correct. Which is kind of scary, considering the sort of stuff this show wants me and the others to do.

Pierce also enclosed a fact sheet about the show, which filled in some but not all of the empty spaces he’d left in his explanation. It explained who Cynthia was (another person related distantly to American Old Money), but not what happened to her.

I didn’t want to tell Pierce because his head is fat enough, but this was exactly the sort of thing I’ve always wanted to do. I love Victorian history, especially English Victorian history, and what dedicated Anglophile wouldn’t jump at the chance to stay in a bona fide English stately home?

There is the corset issue, of course. But if I agree to do the job—I haven’t signed anything yet, and won’t until I talk more to Pierce and his friend Roger—I’m sure I’ll find a way around it.

Then again, maybe Roger won’t want me once he sees me. Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just hang around London for a couple of days, then go home. No problem. Nothing like a little vacation to brighten up a dull year, is there?

Oh, who am I fooling? I’ll die of embarrassment if he turns me down. Why, why, why did I get on this plane? Why did I believe Pierce? No corset in the world is going to hide all my fleshy bits! The whole idea is ridiculous! No one is going to want a fat duchess. GAH!









Monday

Still August 30

Even later after dinner

Airplane over . . . um . . . polar cap, I think




How mortifying. The flight attendant turned vicious when I politely requested they turn the plane around, or at the least drop me off somewhere before they land in London. I mean, how hard can it be to find an airport between here and England? It can’t take up that much gas or time! I am a paying customer, after all. Kind of. I didn’t pay, the TV company did, but still, someone paid for my ticket and that’s what really matters.

This doesn’t bode well for the rest of the trip.