aw the triumphant return of Bev, after 4 years absence. We hooked up with old friends, made new ones, had a great time with our suppliers, arrived painfully late for our own party (not because we are like that, but because dinner over-ran really badly). We ate, we drank rosé, we feasted on Martin “frycook” Jacobson’s 4am breakfasts back at our apartment, we danced, we spoke absolute bollocks to drunk creatives at 5am at the Martinez. We might have ventured close to the shops on Rue d’Antibe.
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