Please note that I have not yet tried Billionaire Boyfriend. This post is in response to the concept behind this new perfume.
My angel! I’m so sorry, you caught me a little unprepared. I gave Jeeves the day off, he told me something about needing to have some words with Kate Walsh. You know Jeeves. Always such a kidder.
Why, darling, you’re hardly dressed for a day on the yacht! Where is your Prada sunscreen? Your Missoni muumuu? Next you’re going to tell me that you forgot your Gucci sandcastle bucket!
Why, pet, whatever could you mean by “Can we take the smaller yacht today?” You know perfectly well that I just had Jeeves prepare the S.S. 1% for our lunch with William and Kate! It would positively break Jeeve’s heart if we didn’t use it after he put so much effort into that diamond-encrusted anchor. And it always raises the serfs’ spirits to see our flag on the horizon.
You want a what? A job? Is that one of those ghastly STDs that all the commoners seem to have? Work? Well, naturally! I’ve been saying for years that it’s time for you to take over Mother’s position on the National Ballet board. No? Oh, I see, you genius girl. You’re holding out for the National Opera.
Look, I don’t know who this Gloria Steinem character is, but I don’t think she’s being a very good influence on you. Please don’t make me call Mother and have her disinvited from the Save The Dwarf Hamsters gala next month. Is she one of your Real Housewife friends? No? Is she a Kennedy? Those damn Kennedys. Can’t trust ‘em farther than you can throw them. What do you mean, “male gaze”? What the hell is a “proletariat”?
Sweet John D. Rockefeller! What’s gotten into you, precious? Look, those awful feminists are gone now, you don’t have to pretend anymore. We both know that all you want is to stay in our tastefully decorated home while I drunkenly invade Father’s stockholder meetings and carry on remarkably indiscreet affairs.
No, no, don’t speak, turtledove. I can see the rapturous agreement in your eyes. That’s what every woman wants, isn’t it? A billionaire boyfriend! No need for silly things like a job or an identity. My goodness, sometimes it’s positively exhausting to be so in touch with women’s needs. I may well have need of the smelling salts.
Why, poppet, you’re crying! Tears of joy, how very touching. Here, have my best handkerchief. It’s terribly soft, isn’t it? Jeeves wasn’t even using that chest hair.