I met up with Zara outside The Slug and Lettuce. Purple hair this year, but still that effortless unkempt look. Nice ragged slash along her throat, exposing the carotid and lots of gore splattered around her cleavage.
“You look the business,” I said.
“Thanks. I’ve slapped on a bit more this year.” She flicked back her rank locks and adjusted the neckline of her velvet top. “Last time was an utter disaster, too lilac…