Girls are tricky when it comes to fighting. With gentlemen, the nature of said sinful little sparring match is put to rest six feet under with one swift right cross. Before the blink of an eye, and before one has time to assess who’s blood is coming from what body cavity, all is forgiven and forgotten. With girls however, the delightful little duel is an emotional knockdown, drag-out ordeal, filled with fantastical little snide remarks only to be countered with more below the belt back talk. The entirety of the mademoiselle v. mademoiselle mis-match is cleverly camouflaged behind Aquafresh smiles and flirty little hair twists, of which lure in the opponent. Then, just as soon as you think you’re momentarily safe, you’re getting slapped in the face with a flip of the hair. Ladies, our oh-so-daring-darling Miss Kathryn Merteuil was indeed divulging a divinatory adage when she advised each of her fellow Park Avenue princesses to “keep their friends close, and their enemies closer.” This World War III type of altercation has spawned several little allied armies among friends now divided. And, in the most dangerous development since apocalyptic style atomic bombs, friends and enemies have merged into a deliciously dangerous little hybrid. Frenemies, confused by all the tactical texting, severed smiles, and the inability to understand exactly which friends are still talking amongst themselves, are a highly enhanced form of party playmates always snarling behind their perfect little smiles. By the end of the undoubtedly dreadful exchange of faux-pleasantries, the frenemies have painted quite the “why so serious” smile on your pretty little face as well. The friendly fiend’s attempt at getting a girl down however has failed miserably. Because, with one hug (that feels remarkably similar to a death grip,) she’s out of sight out of mind until you hear the ‘she said, she said’ play-by-play the next day. The monsters always come out at night, and in a city filled with fallen angels, where skeletons hide in closets and men are from mars, an occasional encounter with an ill-mannered minx is inevitable. Just make sure you have those silver bullets in your couture clutch. Of course, being armed with a teeny bit of below the belt gossip isn’t a bad thing to have in your corner. Good ammunition never goes out of style.