Shopaholic To The Stars - Shopaholic to the Stars Part 14
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Shopaholic to the Stars Part 14

'Yes.' I try to sound nonchalant.

'The rehab place?'

'Yes.'

'Started by Alicia Bitch Long-legs' husband?'

'Yes.'

'Bex, are you insane? Why are you going there?'

'To ... um ... to go on the spending-addiction programme.'

'What?' She actually splutters down the phone.

'I want to work on my issues.' I clear my throat. 'I have some big stuff to sort out.'

Somehow when I say it to Suze it doesn't sound as convincing as it did before.

'No you don't!' she says in derision. 'You just want to hang out with Sage Seymour and all the celebrities!'

'Well, so what if I do?' I say defensively.

'But they're all weird,' she says, sounding unhappy. 'Bex, don't get weird on me, please.'

I'm momentarily silenced. She's right. They are a bit weird. Alicia's totally weird. But then, if I don't go to Golden Peace, how will I get to have coffee with Sage?

'I'll be fine. I'll only listen with one ear.'

'Well ... all right.' Suze sighs. 'But don't get sucked in. Please.'

'I promise.' I cross my fingers.

I'm not going to admit the truth: I quite want to get sucked in. Because it's occurred to me that if Sage goes to Golden Peace, who else might go? What career opportunities might there be? What if I meet some famous director and we get talking about the costumes for his next film over herbal tea, or whatever they drink. (Probably coconut water or yam water. Or banana water. Something gross like that.) 'Bex?'

'Oh.' I come to. 'Sorry, Suze.'

'So, come on,' she demands. 'What was Sage wearing? And don't leave anything out.'

'Well ...' I sit back happily, settling in for a proper long chat. LA is fab and exciting and everything ... but I do miss my best friend.

From: Kovitz, Danny To: Kovitz, Danny Subject: I'm alive!!!!!!

dearest friends i write this from training camp on the island of kulusuk. i have been here one day and already i know this will be a transformating experience for me. i've never felt so alive. i have taken shots of the snow ice and the cute inuit people with their darling clothes. i am ready for the challenge. i am ready to push myself. i am ready to be at one with the soaring powerful nature that is around me. it is a mystical experience. i feel proud and humbled and enlivened and excited. i will see landscapes few people have ever seen. i will push myself to the brink. my new collection will be based on the experience.

all my love and wish me luck. i will email again from the next camp.

danny xxxxx

NINE.

All I can say is ... wow. I mean, Namaste. Or maybe Satnam? (I've been learning lots of spiritual, yoga-ish words and trying to use them in conversation. Except that 'Satnam' always makes me think of 'sat nav'.) Why have I never got into Mind Body Spirit before? Why did I never do wellbeing classes in England? Or Navigate Your Inner Terrain? Or Sound Healing for Childhood Damage? I've been attending Golden Peace for two weeks now, and it's transformed my life. It's just amazing!

For a start, the place is fantastic. It's a huge site on the coast, just south of LA. It used to be a golf club, but now it's all low sandy-coloured buildings and koi lakes and a running track, which I'm totally intending to use sometime. Plus they sell fresh juices, and healthy meals, and there's free yoga at lunchtime on the beach, and in the evenings they show inspirational movies outside while everyone lolls on beanbags. Basically, you don't ever want to leave.

I'm sitting in a room with a dark wooden floor and billowing white curtains at the windows and a softly fragranced air. All the rooms at Golden Peace smell the same it's their signature scent of ylang ylang and cedar and ... some other really healthy thing. You can buy the scented candles at the gift shop. I've already bought eight, because they'll make perfect Christmas presents.

All the spending-addiction programmes were full when I phoned up, but that doesn't matter, because this really nice girl, Izola, recommended a whole programme of general wellbeing classes for me. The point is, everyone can work on their soul and inner being, because the spiritual muscle needs exercise like any other. (I read that in the brochure.) I do self-esteem group on Mondays, Compassionate Communication on Tuesdays, The Transitive Self on Wednesdays, and this brilliant class called Tapping for Wellbeing on Fridays. Right now it's a Thursday morning, and I'm in Mindfulness for a Positive Life. At the start of the class, the teacher always says how hard mindfulness is and how it will take time to let go of the outside world, and we mustn't be impatient with ourselves. But actually, I find it really easy. I think I must be a natural.

The group is quiet, and we're all meditating on something in the room, which is what we do every week. Luckily, the people at Golden Peace are all really stylish, so there's always something interesting to meditate on. Today I'm focusing on a gorgeous leather backpack in teal, which the dark-haired girl opposite me has slung below her chair. I want to ask her if they come in slate grey, but perhaps I'll do that after the class.

'Brian,' says our teacher Mona, in a soft voice. 'Could you please vocalize for us your mindfulness journey today? What are you meditating on?'

I've seen Brian before. He's tall and buff with quite a prominent nose, which is unusual in LA, and he brings in a Starbucks, although I'm sure that's not allowed.

'I'm focusing on the grain in the wooden floor,' says Brian, in a stilted voice. 'I'm looking at the way the wood swirls around and ebbs and flows. I want to think about my ex-wife, but I'm going to push those thoughts away.' He sounds suddenly fierce. 'I'm not going to think about her or her lawyer-'

'Brian, don't judge yourself,' says Mona gently. 'Simply allow your thoughts to return to the floor. Absorb every detail. Every line, every speck, every curve. Be in the moment. Try to reach a heightened sense of awareness.'

Brian exhales. 'I'm in the moment,' he says shakily, his eyes riveted on the floor.

'Good!' Mona smiles. 'Now, Rebecca?' She turns to me. 'We haven't heard much from you. How is your meditation going today?'

'Great, thanks!' I beam at her.

'What are you meditating on today?'

'That bag.' I point. 'It's really nice.'

'Thanks.' The dark-haired girl smiles.

'A bag.' Mona blinks. 'That's different. Are you focusing on the texture of the bag ... the buckles ... the colour?'

'The straps,' I say.

'The straps. Good. Perhaps you could share your meditation with us. Just ... give us a stream of consciousness. Take us where your thoughts are going.'

'OK.' I take a deep breath. 'Well, I'm thinking that those straps look really comfortable but it depends how wide your shoulders are, doesn't it? So then I'm wondering if I could try it after the class. And I'd prefer it in slate grey because I've already got a teal leather bag, but actually, I might give that to my friend Suze because she's always liked it, and she's coming out to visit me. In fact, she's arriving today! And then I'm wondering if they stock them in Barneys because I've got a gift voucher for there, although I have also seen this really nice jacket for my daughter Minnie in the children's department which I also want to get-'

'Rebecca, stop!' Mona holds up a hand, and I come to a halt in surprise. 'Stop there!'

What's wrong? I thought I was doing really well. I was much more interesting than Brian with his boring old grainy wood.

'Yes?' I say politely.

'Rebecca ... Let's remind ourselves of what mindfulness means. It means we bring our attention to the present experience on a moment-to-moment basis.'

'I know.' I nod. 'My present experience is thinking about that bag,' I explain. 'Is it by Alexander Wang?'

'No, it's 3.1 Phillip Lim,' says the girl. 'I got it online.'

'Oh, right!' I say eagerly. 'Which site?'

'I don't think you understand.' Mona cuts across me. 'Rebecca, try to focus on just one aspect of the bag. As soon as you notice your mind wandering off, gently bring it back to the object of attention. OK?'

'But my mind didn't wander off,' I protest. 'I was thinking about the bag the whole time.'

'I can send you the link,' chimes in the dark-haired girl. 'It's a really great backpack. You can fit an iPad in it.'

'Oh, can I try it on?'

'Sure.' The girl reaches for the bag.

'People!' Mona's voice sounds a little sharp, and she immediately smiles as though to compensate. 'Put the bag down! OK! Let's ... focus. Rebecca, I'm going to recommend that you leave the bag meditation for now. Instead, try to concentrate on your breathing. Just become aware of your breath, going in and out of your body. Don't judge it ... don't judge yourself ... just observe your breath. Can you do that?'

I shrug. 'OK.'

'Great! We'll take five minutes' meditation, all of us. Close your eyes if you'd like.'

The room lapses into silence, and I dutifully try to focus on my breath. In. Out. In. Out. In.

God, this is boring. What is there to think about breathing?

I know I'm not an expert on mindfulness, but surely meditation is supposed to make you feel good? Well, I'd feel much better if I was meditating on a lovely bag than on my breathing.

My eyes open and drift to the backpack. No one can tell what I'm meditating on. I'll say it was my breath. They'll never know.

Oh, I really do love it. The zips are so cool. And the point is, I should get it because backpacks are good for your posture. Suze will be delighted if I give her my Marc Jacobs. Surreptitiously I glance at my watch. I wonder where she is. At the airport, hopefully. Her plane should have landed by now and I've told her to come straight here for lunch. Thank God it isn't all coconut water; they serve a decent decaf cappuccino and some really quite yummy carob brownies, and Suze said she'd bring me out some Lion bars ...

'And gradually bring your thoughts back to the group.' Mona's voice interrupts my meditation. Around the room, people open their eyes and stretch their legs and a couple yawn. Mona smiles at me. 'How was that? Did you manage to keep your mind focused, Rebecca?'

'Er ... yes!' I say brightly.

Which is sort of true. My thoughts were focused, just not on my breathing.

We end with a minute's silent contemplation, and then file out of the room, into the grounds, blinking as we re-enter the bright sunlight. At once, everyone who was in the class switches their phones back on, and stares at them intently. That's mindfulness, if you ask me. We should meditate on our phones. In fact, I might suggest it next week- Yessss! A text bleeps in my phone, and I nearly whoop. It's from Suze! She's here!

OK, here's the thing about Suze. She's one of the most beautiful people I know, and I'm not being biased. She's tall and slim and she has amazing clothes. She can totally shop for Britain and she once nearly modelled for Vogue. But she does tend to spend quite a lot of time in jodhpurs or jeans or some ancient old Barbour, especially now that she lives in the country all the time. So that's what I'm expecting to see as I hurry towards the entrance gates. Suze in skinny jeans and ballet pumps, with maybe a nice linen jacket, and the children in their usual bumpy corduroy pinafores and shorts, handmade by Nanny.

What I'm not expecting to see is the vision before me. I have to blink to make sure it's the Cleath-Stuarts. They look like some celebrity LA family. What's happened?

Suze looks so spectacular I barely recognize her. For a start, she's wearing teeny denim shorts. I mean, really, really teeny. Her legs are long and brown and her pedicured feet are in Havaianas. Her long hair is blonder than usual (has she bleached it?) and she's wearing the most amazing pair of Pucci sunglasses. The children look super-cool, too. The two boys are wearing bomber jackets and gel in their hair and Clementine is rocking teeny little skinny jeans with a vest top.

For a moment I can't do anything except blink in astonishment. Then Suze sees me and starts waving frantically, and I come to life again and rush forward.

'Suze!'

'Bex!'

'You made it!' I fling my arms around her, then hug all the children in turn. 'Suze, your clothes!'

'Are they OK?' Suze says at once, anxiously, and brushes at her micro-shorts. 'I wanted to fit in. Do I look all right?'

'You look phenomenal! Did you spray that tan on?' I spot an inked dolphin on her ankle and gasp. 'Suze, you haven't gone and got yourself a tattoo!'

'God, no!' She laughs. 'It's temporary. Everyone's got tattoos in LA, so I thought I'd better have one for the trip. And some friendship bracelets.' She waves her arm at me, and I see a stack of about twenty friendship bracelets on her wrist, where normally she has an antique Cartier watch.

'You've been very thorough!' I say, impressed. 'You look totally LA. Has Tarkie done the same? Where is he, anyway?'

'Coming. He stopped to look at some special tree variety in the grounds. And no, he hasn't done the same.' She looks suddenly disconsolate. 'He won't join in. I bought him this really cool ripped T-shirt and cut-offs, but he won't wear them. I can't get him out of his shooting coat.'

'His shooting coat? In LA?' I stifle a giggle. Tarquin's shooting coat is an institution. It's made of the family tweed and has about ninety-five pockets and smells of wet dog all year round.

'Exactly! I wanted him to wear a leather bomber jacket, but he refused. He thinks friendship bracelets are stupid and my tattoo is ghastly.' She looks indignant. 'It isn't ghastly. It's cool!'

'It's lovely,' I say reassuringly.

'I just thought it would be a chance for him to break away, you know?' Suze's indignation fades to a familiar anxiety. 'He needs to stop moping. He needs to forget about his father, and the LHA, and all of them.'

'The LHA?' I say. 'What's that?'

'Oh.' She grimaces. 'Didn't I tell you? It's the Letherby Hall Association. They're members of the public who support Letherby Hall. They've started a petition against the fountain.'

'No!' I exclaim in dismay.

'I know. And then another lot of them have started a petition for the fountain. They hate each other. They're all nuts.' She shudders. 'Anyway, forget about that. Are there any celebs here?' Her eyes dart all around as we walk along the path towards the leisure area. 'I can't believe you've started coming to Golden Peace.'

'Isn't it great?' I say enthusiastically. 'There are brilliant groups, and yoga, and they serve brownies ...' I pause at a paved area with bronze bells set into small stone pillars all around. 'These are Paths of Serenity, by the way,' I add. 'You can ring the bells if you need clarity.'

'Clarity?' Suze raises an eyebrow.

'Yes. You know. Clarity in your life.'