I don't know what to think about Sykes's books. I mean, she writes of a world full of summers, couture, travel, money, leisure, and social connections, but it sometimes come off as though she's OF the world but not IN it. Is she laughing with them or laughing at them? And who cares? I finished this book in one day so it's no skin off mine. It's summer so read something frivolous for once, you elitist snob. You could read worse (ahem, devilwearsprada *cough*).

Labels: books