Miss Whatever

This afternoon I had the most interesting late lunch verging on tea. Seriously. There has to be a term for that... tench? Lea? I'm sure some brilliant wordsmith will soon come up with a funky neologism.

But I digress. What made the bland Earl Grey and scones I was having far more intriguing was the fact that I sat right next to a couple of girls on the table next to me. Little miss fashionistas from their perfectly coiffed socialite curls to the tip of their Manolo Blahniks. Designer clothes, matching handbags and strictly la-di-da manners all around.


Gossip Girls!
Lean closer and you'd hear this though.

Socialite #1 : Good fucking God. That Fee is such a bitch. Could you imagine she wouldn't let me sit near her in class?
Socialite #2 : Can't see what Hafiz sees in her! Saw him asking her out for a movie. Is he blind?
Socialite #1 : Eeeww. Fee is so not my friend, you know or not. She is so uninvited to my party next week.

Guess we have the dubious honour of hosting our very own Gossip Girls in the city. You'd have expected such a conversation coming from the sultry singletons of Sex and the City chattering like magpies over their men over cosmos.

The sad thing is the girls with their curled-lip sneers and bitchy attitude were all of 13. If even that.

Shocking, I know. Guess what they warn me about all-girl schools could be true. I had this sudden horrible vision of the future with my niece Chatty Carmen - and even my imaginary daughter Blair - emulating such snotty grown-up behaviour at that premature age!

The idea of any daughter of mine acting in such a manner at 13 had me suffering a keen spasm! Not that they are entirely to blame.

Exposed to the ever-exploitative media at such an early age, can we really blame the terrible tweens for growing up that fast? Fed on a diet of mean girls, diva costumes and labeled handbags ( much more suited for ladies twice their age ), they can't help but fall heedlessly into the consumerist trap. Morphing into mini-socialites toting Pradas and piercing sarcasm.

I can't help but wish they'd spend more time enjoying their playful childhood rather than be thrust into a nasty world of cliques, cats and cads! Why the mindless rush to grow up? There's time enough to be concerned with guys, girlfriends and gossip. Certainly don't hope for a naive innocent but there has to be a nice balance between a country Pollyanna - and the horrific Miss Whatevers I saw.

Shouldn't there be enough time yet to play with the dolls rather than the boys?