Stress, Stress, Stress

Chris arrived on time but not without the stress of security. A wise man, he took a train to Paris and flew Air France. The French still operate under The Napoleonic Code and don't take the shit other governments do. Still, it took eight security checks and highlights the dramatic decrease in European tourists this month. There is no doubt in my mind that we will be slowly strangled by the interruption of commerce, and this has not been lost on the business discussions this weekend.

I intend to lighten up the atmosphere and bring out the collection of Fornesetti harpie plates (alas, limited to six) because they are very gay and very expensive. Another thought of which I have no doubt is that this is the last summer without crisis; nutcases from Tel Aviv to Tehran will see to that. (And, we shouldn't forget the midget with the Elvis hairdo and elevator shoes in North Korea.) However, as long as we have the opportunity to lunch and drink we should do it and do it well. In roughly one hour a feeding-frenzy of parties will begin, travel up to Newport this week, and burst like Greek Fire over Labor Day. After that, who knows what is next, except that I have an inordinate amount of china that is coming out for Fall. It's the least I can do to relieve the stress.

Oh, and the red gloves never come out in day; they are for dramatic effect only. du Barry doesn't allow them in Newport, either, so they are getting some last minute usage tonight. She called yesterday to confirm my arrival and asked how packing was going. I said that my main concern was that twelve hat boxes might cause suspicion in times like these and that, since I had to remove my shoes in the airport, I would not be wearing my signature high-button, squash-heeled boots and would most likely resolve to wear jeweled mules. She agreed that jewels can always smooth passage, but wisely cautioned against checking any jewel cases; I assured her that I would be wearing everything sewn into my corsets. Troubled times.