Hats at 10
The room swam with the heady scent of perfume. The outfits were stunning: Cocktail dresses, peplums and maxi-dresses in sherbet-coloured silks and satins. There were hats and fascinators, Jimmy Choos and Louboutins. There were sky-high hairdos, blow-drys and enough makeup to stock the Harvey Nicholls beauty hall.
There were fuchsia lipsticks, daring eye-shadows and laser-whitened teeth. Honeyed highlights. The perfectly plucked eyebrow. French Jellish by the bucket. Diamonds, pearls and platinum. Boob jobs, Botox, fillers and implants – neither a hair nor a molecule was out of place.
Tea was sipped, coffee drunk. Smoked salmon nibbled, scrambled eggs tasted. Mushrooms artfully speared, toast pushed about. Scones, cream and jam consumed with guilty looks. Surgically tight smiles. Tinkling laughs.
But where were we? Paris Fashion Week? The Cartier Polo? Ascot?
Heck, no. Just another coffee morning in Dubai.