The white-pillared entrance loomed above us like an entrance to Olympus; it was guarded by a phoenix, which hung, carved and freshly gold tinted, over the flight of stairs. The organizers had staged this evening’s art exhibition in the sumptuous foyer of the opera house and I could already see the brightly-coloured evening dresses of the ladies mingling with the black tie suits of the men. White jacketed waiters wound between the groups of art lovers offering delicate nibbles and flutes of champagne. They were the gods of the international social scene; I was one very unimportant human interloper and we all knew what happened when mortals messed with deities. I tugged the hem of my outfit lower—it was mid thigh and I was not used to displaying so much leg. ‘I’m not dressed for that crowd.’ Lily glanced at the guests and sniffed. ‘Not a scintilla of fashion taste among them. Those dresses have been in their wardrobes for years. Classic, classic, classic, yawn, yawn, yawn.
