Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

long to look at one Tang horse. Which, by the way, is not fake but is frightfully common.
Every drawing room on Park Avenue has at least one collecting dust on top of a stack of
coffee-table books. Just throw it away, or give it to Sotheby’s to auction off—some
philistine will buy it.”
As Oliver and Kitty were about to emerge from the hidden cigar lounge, a trio of ladies
entered the library. Oliver peeked through the crack in the armoire door and whispered to
Kitty, “It’s Adele Deng, Stephanie Shi, and Perrineum Wang!”
Stephanie could be heard saying, “Well, Kitty has certainly succeeded in removing every
trace of Colette from the house. What do you think of this Picasso over the desk?”
“I’m so sick of seeing Picassos—every starter billionaire in Beijing has one. You know
that in the last two decades of his life, the man was doing four paintings a day like some
desperate whore? The market is flooded with mediocre Picassos. Give me a good Gauguin
any day—like the one in my father’s museum,” Adele Deng said with a sniff.
“Colette’s vision for this house was utter perfection, and now it’s been ruined,”
Stephanie lamented.
“I don’t care what anyone says—to me this will always be Colette’s house,” Perrineum
chimed in.
Adele walked up to the Boulle armoire, tracing over the marquetry with her fingers.
“This is actually a nice piece, but what the hell is it doing here in the corner? If you ask
me, Kitty’s trying so desperately to impress. Every single object in this house is a museum
showpiece. Everything is screaming, ‘Look at me! Look at me!’ Kitty wouldn’t understand
the meaning of subtlety if it hit her on those fake breasts. As Marella Agnelli might say, ‘It
will take her another lifetime to understand wicker.’ ”
“Hiyah, what do you expect from a porn star? She will never have Colette’s taste—you
have to be born with it,” Perrineum decreed, readjusting her gigantic hat for the millionth
time.
“I wonder if we can sneak over to her bedroom wing. I want to see what she did with
the space,” Stephanie suggested.
“She probably put mirrors on the ceiling,” Perrineum cracked.
“Louis XIV mirrors. Stolen from Versailles!” Adele cackled, as she followed the ladies
out the door.
Perched in the corner of the cigar lounge, Kitty couldn’t hide her look of devastation.
“My breasts are not fake!” she cried.
“Don’t listen to them, Kitty.”
“Adele Deng told me the house was ‘so original.’ Why would she lie to my face like
that?”
Oliver paused for a moment, thinking that Adele was right on one score—Kitty certainly
didn’t pick up on the subtler cues. “They’re just jealous of all the attention you’re getting.
Ignore them.”
“You know, it’s not so easy to ignore those ladies. Adele Deng and Stephanie Shi—they
rule the scene here. If this is what they’re really thinking, I’ll never be able to compete.”