The Power of Hair

Since my return I've been engaged in a number of activities v. often with camera in tow.
Activity No. 1: Attending Westfield Mall at Bondi Junction in Sydney. 

Even though most people I know speak disparagingly of The Mall as if they aren't sucked in One Bit into Shopping & would much rather be out in the Open Air Horseriding or Absailing or Yodelling up Mountain Passes, I enjoy, Nay, Revel in them. Particularly if they have a 'Chanel' Shop, which Bondi Westfield has. To me, being within Touching Distance of a Real Chanel Quilted Bag is rather like being in the presence of a Famous Saint's Relics or a Splinter off the Crucifix. 

I'm also a sucker for the Jewels. So, when I spied some on  the rather Shifty Looking Mannequin in the window   who had a look on her face as if she'd just done a Revolting Room-Emptying Fart, I reached for my camera & began snapping. As quick as a flash, a Swarthy Security  Personage appeared out of nowhere & said it was Against the Rules to take photos. My Past Self would have perhaps told him to 'Get Nicked' or maybe something even stronger, but My Current Self  wouldn't allow me to say anything.  I couldn't help but scowl at him though  & almost, but not quite, flick my Middleaged Ponytail in his face. It's amazing how Powerful Hair can be. Thank God I've Still Got Some.