Twas the night before Christmas, when all through New York
Creatures were stirring with stylish quirk.
The stockings were ordered from ASOS with flair,
With doubts that they matched a damn thing I’d wear.
The kids snuggled up in 300-count threads,
While visions of VPL Pre-Fall danced in their heads.
Dressed all in furs of silver and brown, we headed out to the west side of town.
When out on the terrace, we heard such a clatter,
Yet we feigned indifference regarding the matter.
But just as we handed the bartender cash, a handful of iPhones started to flash.
Out on the roof of The James on Grand, we had the best view in all of the land.
When, what to our blurry eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver dressed in McQueen,
Santa arrived to see-and-be-seen.
In a red coat with black fur trim, St. Nick was looking Lagerfeld-thin.
I thought to myself that something was wrong.
Perhaps these drinks were a tad bit too strong?
But before the next thought could rack through my brain,
He whistled and shouted and called out by name,
“Jimmy Fallon! Sandy Kenyon! You’re not smart or funny!
Get the hell out my cab! Sleigh rentals cost money!
And that Kardashian store belongs in a mall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
Like a dramatized hurricane once named Irene,
He swirled back to the sky with some boozy caffeine.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he flew from the Jimmy
“Merry Christmas, New York! I love this damn city!”
Post by Amanda LaMela
