Feeling the chill? High time you dropped a million on whatever Gagosian is selling, slipped on your satin Dries trench and got your kittens inside a party, darling! It is Frieze Week, for goodness’ sake. The most fabulous time of the year.
Yes, London’s art week has returned (can I hear it for the bartenders at Chiltern!?) along with its cavorting band of gallerists, dealers, chief executives, finance daddies, oil scions, eight-times-facelifted collectors and the squirmy hangers-on you always get when people who slosh cash at every step convene for a brightly lit tête-à-tête at the UK’s most prominent art fair.
