By Zoe Foster
If the satan wears Prada, then God wears l. a. Mer.
Hannah Atkins - the lady probably to be carrying unblended beginning, orange wrists or a wobbly path of liquid eyeliner - has bluffed her method into the location of good looks editor at Gloss journal. simply as she's carving a direction into the glossy international of guerrilla air kisses, achingly hip PR campaigns and goodie-bag overload, she reads approximately her boyfriend and one other lady within the gossip pages of the neighborhood rag. Then she will get dumped. through text.
Vowing to claw again a few dignity and make her ex remorse what he's performed, Hannah adopts a manifesto of hardcore principles. Don't turn into most sensible neighbors with the dreaded ladies at paintings. Don't drink fourteen glasses of Moët & Chandon at PR launches. Don't pass domestic with irrelevant males. and definitely don't get all besotted along with your top friend's brother.
As her principles begin to slip away, Hannah unearths herself having to choose extra vital issues than simply the ideal colour of lip gloss . . .
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