I shouldn’t tell you this, but as California Chrome’s personal stylist, my name is being dragged through the mud over this nasal strip fiasco, and I need to tell my story before People Magazine hears it elsewhere.
Full disclosure: C.C. is my first horse client. However, I’m no stranger to four-leggers with a discerning pedigree. I’m sure you’re aware of my work with the cat who did Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Broadway, and the donkey from Shrek (movies 1-4 plus the spin-offs), but a horse is a different animal altogether.
Let’s set the record straight. Do you really think I’d sanction that hideous nasal strip for a live, global, high-profile media event…maybe if I’m aspiring to be the new dishwasher at Ho Hum’s on Canal! C.C.’s handlers didn’t want to listen—but I had the only sensible solution.
Anyone with a thread of fashion sense knows that Ralph Lauren is all about horse hair footwear (Fall ‘15). I have a friend in the bootie department; she promised to hook me up with a swatch, ivory and chestnut. The swatch would easily adhere to the strip, creating a nasal patch toupee, if you will. A guy I know in the east village is a master at weaves. On the trickiest hair. He assured me he could weave the strip onto C.C.’s nose. Done. No visible lines. No questions. No NYRA approvals. But I never got the chance.
I’m sure you know by now that C.C. doesn’t have a breathing problem. His real problem is that he’s a scaredy cat, and it’s his reaction to being frightened that they want to keep under wraps. Unfortunately, there’s no telling what will make him jittery. A few of his triggers to date: Frank Sinatra songs (including covers), seaweed under hoof, women wearing coral lipstick or back tattoos, the smell of Fabuloso, anything on HBO. Horses usually let out a panicked neigh when they’re anxious or agitated, through their nose. C.C. can’t do this because of his deviated septum. Instead, he spurts a stuttering-lisp, like someone with a swollen tongue and rapid-fire hiccups might do. Replete with spittle. It’s utterly embarrassing. The only thing that reverses this are the nasal strips. Trust me; he simply cannot do national T.V. without the strips. But the white plastic patches?
I don’t get it. We spent a small fortune covering his unsightly varicose veins with Prada tube socks. The Zorro mask with embedded audio (thank you, Hammacher Schlemmer!) to play Susan Boyle’s I Dreamed a Dream—the only thing that keeps him calm—was an arm and a leg. And, let’s not forget about the saddle pad custom fabricated by Spanx! All this and then a snout accessory from Walgreens aisle 4.
Obviously, I had to cut ties with C.C.’s people. I wish them all the luck in the world, but I can’t be associated with an oversight of such proportions. My reputation is all I have. Let it be clear, I would not now, or ever in the future, do white vinyl on horse hair.
Well, unless it’s a lovely little Hermès number.
Jim story
Very funny, Eva