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millions and suddenly, tragically, taken from us at the height of her beauty and freedom. Join Sellevision this Friday at eight P.M . Eastern Standard Time for a full hour of our first ‘England’s Rose: Jewelry Inspired by Princess Diana’ showcase. This extraordinary show features beautiful fashion jewelry created in loving memory of the most famous princess the world has ever known. If you love Diana, this is your chance to add her legacy to your own jewelry wardrobe. Don’t miss ‘England’s Rose,’ this Friday evening, only on Sellevision.”
    Cut back to a medium shot of Adele and the Moisture Whik Control Panty display.

    “Y
    es, please,” Bebe told the waiter at Café Sonzero, when he asked if she would care for a sprinkling of freshly grated parmesan cheese on her Rhode Island field greens and grilled calamari salad. Bebe had taken Amtrak into Manhattan to do some shopping and have lunch with her friend, Amy, a children’s book editor with Depretis Books. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and after lunch the two friends would head uptown to shop on Fifth Avenue.
    “I can’t believe you, Bebe. What if you meet some psycho who tries to tie you up or something?”
    Bebe laughed wickedly. “Who says I don’t want to be tied up, huh?”
    “I’m serious, you could meet a lunatic,” Amy said firmly. “What on earth possessed you to write a personal ad and place it on the Internet?”
    Bebe stabbed a piece of calamari with her fork. The emerald-cut Diamonelle on her ring finger sparkled as she lifted the morsel of deep-sea predator to her lips. “Amy, I know lots of people who have placed personal ads. You know Trish? Trish Mission from the show?”
    Amy nodded, having just seen Trish on the England’s Rose show. She’d even ordered the key fob.
    “Well, she placed an ad last summer and yeah, she met a couple of bozos, but she also met her boyfriend, Steve. And believe me, he’s no psycho, he’s an analyst with Price Waterhouse.”
    Amy remained skeptical. “I don’t know, Bebe, maybe I’m old fashioned, but I’d rather meet somebody through friends, or just by chance in the supermarket.”
    Bebe took a sip of wine. “Amy, the only people I meet at the supermarket are housewives who come up and show me all the Diamonelle they’re wearing and ask for my autograph, while their kids whine and tug at their legs.” She leaned in. “Look, I’m forty-two and single. This calls for desperate measures.”
    Amy smiled and rolled her eyes. “Fine. So what’d you say in your ad?”
    Bebe rested her fork on the plate, clasped her hands in front of her on the table and recited: “Aging Jewish Princess, forty-two, seeks her prince, or at least a guy who walks upright. I’m attractive, successful, with a down-to-earth nature and an unfortunate passion for Rocky Road ice cream. Healthy, active, and fit, I enjoy the outdoors as well the occasional night on the town. I’m very spontaneous, and love to travel. You should be likewise. You should also be devastatingly handsome, filthy rich, outrageously funny, prone to extreme lapses of common sense, and humble. What else did I say? Oh yeah—the sense-of-humor impaired need not apply.”
    Amy clapped. “Well, well, well, you could make a living doing that.”
    The two laughed and Amy raised her glass in a toast: “May the princess meet her Homo-erectus.”
    Bebe smiled and they clinked glasses.
    After lunch, the friends took a cab uptown to Henri Bendel. The store was filled with chic Manhattanites carrying dark green shopping bags from Gucci, trademark blue bags with Tiffany & Co. printed in glossy black ink, Banana Republic totes, and navy blue plastic drawstring Gap bags. “I really need a couple of new suits,” Bebe said as they ascended the grand staircase. “I saw a darling Calvin Klein two-piece in Vogue last week—beige scoopneck with these wonderful, gigantic lapels.”
    As the two passed through accessories, Amy fell in love with, but