Bonnie: One day I am going to send you this post:
"Hey laurel, saw your editorial in V the other day. Sorry about all the bad press about your shoot with (enter 15 year old starlet here) I mean, I thought it was elegant and tastful, but that's the 'biz' I guess. Nice work. See you in the hampton's time share in a couple weeks?"
Laurel: One of these days, I'll be like, "Hey, Bonnie, I saw that part of the show that you curated at the Whitney Biennial. Nice job, though I feel like Koons would be very much opposed to you putting one of his little blow up balloon dogs so close to...um....[insert other artists, work, and date here. it's early still and I'm tired]." To which you'd laugh and sort of toss your cocktail back, spilling just a drop, and say, "Why thanks, Dailey. Hey, let's get lunch in Greenwich tomorrow and collab." I'd be on my ill-advised 5th cocktail, which I'd be sloppily lapping up from the side of the cup, and I'd slur, "Yesh, letsh."