I love my rich internal life, wherein everything is possible. I love that my brain can entertain me with visions of giant 18k gold rings and a Lalique china service for 48. It is so beautiful inside my fantasy cottage. Cottage: ha! That's just what I call it, when I talk to the little people who congregate outside the privet hedge that separates my formal garden from the public right-of-way, hoping for a glimpse of my Balenciaga dressing gown. It's more of an estate, along the lines of Le Trianon. Nothing fancy--just enough to make life comfortable. I love that word. "We're comfortable," I say, shrugging, when people ask if I consider myself rich. I use the royal We in order to create the impression of a posse. Really, it's just me living here, and yes, it's a little lonely, but consider the alternatives.

I dropped into fantasy world today when it hit me that I have four weddings to attend in the next two months, and nothing suitable to wear. I haven't been to a wedding in a while, and the last time I did, I struggled for days to come up with something appropriate, only to arrive at the wedding to discover that the bridesmaids were wearing flip-flops. In other words, it was a free-for-all. No one even glanced twice at me until I drove back to LA where, the second I stepped out of the car, a passer-by said, "That's a fantastic outfit!" I think she said "fantastic." Anyway, I felt vindicated, because all weddings by definition are about me and what I am wearing. (Apparently.)

My dream outfit is, of course, out of reach and wholly imaginary. It involves large branches of red coral strung on fine gold wire, a vintage deep chocolate Yves St Laurent evening suit, and an olive green silk camisole. Plus some $800 Christian Louboutin shoes, and a couple of 18k gold cuffs. And a pair of matching, dark brown wolfhounds on violet leather leashes. I ask you: is it not unfair that I do not live in a world where these things are available to me, free of charge? (Were I to live in such a world, I would ensure that you too received all your heart's desires for FREE, in case that influences your answer.)

I found some shoes to wear (see illustration):

ILLUSTRATION

They are a bargain on eBay--new--at only $699, so I think I'll start there, in my fantasy world, at least. Yes, they are black, but not funereal, so I can rest assured that I won't be setting any kind of negative tone. Wearing black means you disapprove of the wedding, as I understand it from my mother, who prevented me from wearing a truly fab black frock to her own second wedding. Such a rip. I ended up in a blatant purple monstrosity borrowed from my boss, who considered Talbot's the height of fashion.

I asked the Keelhauler what he planned to wear--he's out to sea for another week, and then has a few days back on land before he's out again for two weeks, leaving little time to shop. "I'll find something," he said but did not elaborate. If he selects something from among his clothes on the boat, he's going to wind up in cargo pants cut off below the knees, a t-shirt advertising some brand or other of surf gear, and heavy wool socks worn with steel-toed work boots. Such is his thrift store karma, however, that he'll be able to walk into the Broken Home Thrift, reach into the racks, and come out with an Armani suit in his size for $8. I'm a little bitter.

I'll figure it out. And if not, I'll wear what I have on now, and take a heavy dose of Percocet so that I no longer care. Because really, the wedding is all about the love, y'all, the love of the bride and groom, and the love of me for prescription drugs and imaginary designer clothes. I love it here, inside my brain.

Star of the day. . .Agatha K. Plumber