This probably won’t matter all that much to people who don’t give a crap about fashion and/or New York, but I’m reasonably sure I saw Simon Doonan walking his dog near Washington Square Park on Saturday night. Evidence supporting this:
1) He was only about an inch taller than me.
2) Simon Doonan has a dog.
3) He looked a little horrified when he heard me and two of main gays hollering about his possible Simon Doonan-ness from the confines of our taxicab.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. That dude over there? I think that’s Simon Doonan.”
JC, who was closest, craned his neck. “It totally is Simon Doonan. It is either Simon Doonan, or a Simon Doonan impersonator.”
Me: “It totally is him. Look how annoyed he is! Simon Doonan! Moss, hold my ankles.”
“Hold my ankles, I want to lean out the window. Oh, shit. Now we’re moving. SIMON DOONAN, I LOVE YOU. PUT DONATELLA BEHIND GLASS AGAIN.”
It’s possible that I am not well.