My friends, have you been living in a fog? You can tell me. According to my horoscope, one of my "loved ones" has been living in a fog, and it's up to me to set them straight. Unfortunately, the many hours I require each day to stare at my own reflection in mirrors, then put all my thoughts here, on the Hinternet for you all, means that I do not have a lot of time to look around at loved ones and see if they're in a daze and need my help.

I will trust that any of you needing assistance will send up some sort of signal, and while I'm waiting for that, I'll tell you about my great, great day in Arizona!

Because that is where I am, Arizona. Phoenix, Arizona. Jonny's wedding is this evening, so to prepare, I went shopping for shoes! Shoes! Beautiful shoes! Following the directions Jonny wrote for me on a napkin, I drove to a store called Last Chance, which contains all the merchandise that dishonest people have worn and then returned to Nordstrom, as well as leftovers from their store, but honestly, you should see some of the stuff. In particular, there was this handbag from My Flat in London, which sells for I don't know, close to $300. So, despite the fact that it's hideous and the bee applique on the front was missing his jeweled crown, I still looked to see if maybe I would want it. The inside of this purse was totally filthy with lipstick, ink, crumbs, and well maybe that's it, I'm not Sherlock Holmes. But still, some woman returned it to Nordstrom, I'm guessing because the bee's hat fell off when she was getting out of a cab or having sex in the men's room at Axis-Radius. And then, Nordstrom Last Chance stuck it right back on the shelf, for $79.99! Such a deal.

Following the purse debacle, I strolled over to the sweaters, where I witnessed a very slender girl in low-rise jeans and spike heels trying on a formal gown over her clothes. I noticed her because she wouldn't shut up about how great the dress looked on her, and had attracted an audience of Arizona women wearing sporty togs--linen-look polyester blouses, white pants tapered at the ankle. The dress featured wide, angled stripes in magenta, orange and candy pink, and was "fully beaded," as Gown Girl explained, which I found very funny, because it sounds like a description she learned from reading pageant gown catalogues. The dress was one-shouldered, and dipped down very low in the back. "Oh my God, it's a size TWELVE!" she said, laughing. She was very slender, and not too tall, so I'd put her at about a 6. "Normally, I wouldn't be looking in the extra-large section," she explained, rubbing it in to her onlookers, "but this has to be mis-sized!" The way she said it, "twelve" sounded like "twelve hundred," as if anything over a size 6 is designed for whales who roam the sea, and my initial reaction was, "I hate you, Gown Girl, with your low-rent high heels, your pigeon-toed stance, and stripper hair." Actually, that was my only reaction. I still stand by it.

OK, where was I? I no longer recall. Anyway, it's time for me to shower and stare in the mirror for a while, in preparation for Jonny's wedding.

Any of you out there in a fog, give a holler.

Star of the day. . .Sophie Dahl