Winona, Inc.

Princess Bee is tall, long-limbed and lovely, with a juicy family scandal that gives her lots to work with. The illegitimate daughter of royalty, baby Roberta was raised in seclusion along the English countryside, tucked far away from gossip and the nosy British press. But eighteen years later, Bee doesn’t give a shit about gossip or the press. She’s a popular Insta-girl with a following of four million-plus and, ready to expand her brand, she’s coming to NYC unescorted to scope out and meet with the hottest modeling agencies. Mine included, of course.

Traffic is a special kind of hell around 56th and Fifth—white house north—and that’s just the way things are going to be. Until the impeachment. The princess is waiting for me at the Peninsula Hotel. She wants to go shopping and I know the perfect spot. At Kirna Zabete downtown on Broome St., we walk in and—like a miracle—guess who happens to be there? Will and Willow Smith. Right?? I share my mission with Will and like a pal he goes into full Daddy-mode, assisting Bee in selecting an outfit and taking selfies while Willow watches, blankface. Almost.

Bee is wearing Rosie Aussolin. Willow’s jacket is St. Laurent

Bee is stoked as we ferry across the Hudson to watch Lourdis rehearse with the band. Inside a semi-abandoned warehouse, Elle Fanning and Miguel are here, braving the meh reviews from their new movie with Ben Affleck. They bought along a posse. Whew! Glad I ordered lunch for 25. Elle, it turns out, follows Bee on Instagram and recognizes her right away. I’m in awe. The princess is ballin’! She’s snapping pics and grinding to the music with some long-legged boy. I can see the ants in his pants from here.

Bee is wearing a customized Prince t-shirt by eoe | wear | ever 

Time flies. It’s after four o’clock and we’re due back in the city at 5 for the RAG & BONE fittings. Marcus Wainwright is a fellow Brit. Bee will be tickled to meet him, I think. But where has she disappeared to? Stepping over bricks, fallen plaster and other undistinguishable shit—in my new suede boots!—I’m calling her phone, shouting her name and trying not to go off the rails. I’ve heard way too many dismembered-body-found-in-waterfront-warehouse stories NOT to be a little shaky. But wait…I hear something…

Winona’s skirt is by ELLERY. Boots by GIANVITO ROSSI. “Ricky” handbag by RALPH LAUREN

Bee and her long-legged friend are rearranging their clothes as they emerge from around a dark corner. I should have known. I snatch her up—no questions asked—and dash for the exit. My car is waiting and shock of shocks, we make it across the river to R & B’s showroom before 6. Fashion Week starts tomorrow and the place is crawling with models. But there’s a no-show. I suggest to Marcus that he use the princess instead. Bee almost wets herself as he looks her over. “She’ll work,” he smiles. Then he bows and kisses her hand. Eeeyew. Who knows where those dainty little fingers were an hour ago?

Industry chitchat all over town is not about the snowstorm. It’s about Princess Bee signing with Winona, Inc. Her Instagram pics showcase our entire day on Wednesday, including shots of us backstage with the cast of HAMILTON. My competition took her out to lunch, maybe dinner, and made her an offer. That’s it. I got her on the catwalk, took her to a hot Broadway show and yeah, she even got laid. They whine about my so-called advantages? Well, that’s tough, bitches! I can make things happen. And sometimes, things just happen on their own. Sorry. Not sorry. Later, darlings. It’s FASHION WEEK!

Princess Bee is wearing a Chanel jacket. Winona’s blouse is by CO Collections.