Gentle readers, I am so very tired this morning and oh, so very hoarse. But I really had a blast last night at my 30th high school reunion.
Where to begin? Here I am on my way out the door around 6:30 pm. I walked there, so I wore sneakers and brought my shoes along in a messenger bag. I skipped the big rings but wore the psychedelic pocket square and coordinating grosgrain ribbon belt. I dabbed a little Cacharel Eau de toilette behind my ear. I didn't polish my shoes, alas (ever the rebel).
The event was scheduled to begin at 7 pm and I planned on arriving no earlier than 7:15 -- fashionably late but early enough to get some canapes.
On my way there I pass some famous New York landmarks...
Finally, beneath darkening skies, I arrive at my destination.
I discreetly change footwear...
And in I go.
It was high school reunion night at the Waldorf apparently -- from my high school alone there must have been a half dozen parties I could have crashed had I been so inclined.
My own was held in a small party suite on the 18th Floor whose decor resembled a funeral home, minus the lilies. After about a half hour, we were shuttled into an adjoining dining room where tables were set for dinner. I'd say we were 60 or so, about half my graduating class. And the food was delicious: a pleasant surprise.
What can I say about the event itself?
It was all relatively low-key; no big surprises. Everyone looked good I thought, and very much like themselves. The loud people were still loud, the blunt people maybe a little blunter but nothing too dramatic, about what I expected. I was the only one who had made my own outfit, that's for sure.
Some old friends:
The only embarrassing moment was when I recognized the date of an old classmate as a well-known author whose book I had recently read. So I go up to her and I say (feeling very impressed with myself), "You're Naomi Klein, right? I loved your book, The Shock Doctrine"!
To which she responds, "No, I'm Naomi Wolf." (The Beauty Myth.) And I'm like, "Oh, right, The Power of Beauty." (Eek, no, that's Nancy Friday.) I felt like an idiot but in truth, readers, I had read her book, just not recently enough to remember the exact title. Wouldn't anybody get those two Naomi's confused especially after a few vodka tonics?
I wish I'd kept my mouth shut but what was she doing at my high school reunion anyway?
Nearing midnight, we were asked to clear out of our Waldorf suite and then a small group of us went out for drinks.
And then it was time to say our good-byes and head back home to our children and chihuahuas.
And that's it! I shamelessly promoted my blog and let's see who shows up.
I also fear I committed myself to make a pair of cigarette pants for an old pal and let's just hope she forgets. (Just kidding, hon -- I'm there you!)
A few more pics here.
Friends, thank you all so much for encouraging me to go to my 30th reunion, and not in those staid pleated gray slacks either. My self-stitched corduroys were a big hit as was the born-again shirt. I even told a few people about my treadle and their eyes didn't glaze over! Amazing.
Tomorrow, gentle readers, we return to the exciting world of sewing. It's time.
And now back to bed.
Happy Sunday, everybody!
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