Dear Rachel Zoe,
This zoebot is so pleased about you becoming a mommy. I see how carefully you nurture your jewelry, oversized handbags and sunglasses (especially your sunglasses). I can only hope you treat your unborn child with the same tender love and care. No doubt Rodger will swaddle the blessed child in his neck scarves should the temper ever drop, and I’m sure Brad Goreski will pop by every now and then for a good giggle. Just don’t expect the man to burp little Zoe. Baby vomit can linger on those Ralph Lauren dress shirts and that does NOT bode well for the love life.
By now you’ve purchased a pram. Not the icky ones people in America use, but the vintage ones nannies pushed around in Victorian England. Safety updates, schmafety updates. You wouldn’t be caught dead in those oversized (not the good oversized) strollers that take a small army to fold and unfold. Can you imagine doing that on Melrose? Picture this: it’s a day like yesterday and you’re about to go into Media Crush. The friggin’ stroller won’t open and Rodger’s in the car because shopping bores him. No no no no no! All wrong! The pram is a better idea. Especially if someone else is pushing it. Now, remember to leave enough room in the pram for your toys as well: Vogue, Starbucks Venti teas with one dollop of half & half, and gum for lunch. With your style know-how and your natural ability to nurture, you’ll get the swing of mommyhood in no time. Just don’t let Jeff Lewis near the baby. He’s a bad influence.
With love and quilted lambskin,
Zoebot (Of the SOCIALITE LIFE Zoebots)