"the" Mrs. Astor

Friday, September 01, 2006

The only difference I see after being away for years is that, like Miami Beach, more people want to live here year round. Other that that, it is still the grand place The Washington Post described as "Where Summering Is A Sport". The harbor is packed with boats of every size and an early morning tour of mansion district of both private and public homes showed gates being polished, catering trucks arriving, and flowers being delivered for a weekend of events.

I sat next to a sweet, if batty, woman who was taking four of her stunning, blonde children to see their great-grandmother in Newport. We chatted about this-and-that when I asked where her grandmother lived, she said, "Oh, she's 102 and lives in the last home on Bellevue Avenue." I remarked that she must have seen much over the time, and she told me her mother used to fire the cannon that announced that Bailey's Beach was open. I told her to ask her grandmother if she remembered "the raising of the flag" and explained that once a day, a flag was raised and women would have to leave the beach because the men would swim nude.

Peter picked me up and wanted to go to Providence; I assured him I did not travel half a day to go to a club, and we drove directly to Newport and his charming home. All I wanted to do was have some wine and relax. Peter, knowing me so well, picked up lately on my intense dissatisfaction with what is going on back on South Beach and gave me the soothing works of advice I needed. You can't get that unless you remove yourself out of a cauldron of nonsense like Miami.

By my standards it was cold: 50 degrees. I slept in three layers of cotton and flannel under two comforters, but it was wonderful. The Countess and Officer Brian on on the way down for a two night stay. The New England air does something to you, too; it wouldn't surprise me if it makes you smarter in some way. It definitely picks you up.

8 Comments:

At 3:54 PM, Blogger Black and Tan Mark said...

Mrs. Astor,
Good lord... where to start. I wholeheartedly agree that you have to escape the SoBe Asylum on a regular basis to keep your sanity intact; but then again, that may be because I grew up in the midwest.
The Washington Post article has driven me to distraction. While reading it every detail of my Newport stay, guided by the watchful eye of Pierre du Barry, came rushing back.
Enjoy yourself - I can't wait to hear the stories :-)
B&T

 
At 4:37 PM, Blogger the Witch said...

Sorry to have missed you last weekend, good Mrs. Astor.

I was in the arms of the handsome Devil I love, lost track of time and narrowly made my flight back home.

Your forgiveness I do implore.

 
At 5:54 PM, Blogger Jesse said...

Uncle Alexis,

I am SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY FOR YOU! It sounds like this vacation was just what the doctor ordered for you. Sometimes you need to escape to Miami, and it seems that sometimes you need to escape from it! I am excited about your reunion with DuBarry, Bob and Terry, Brian and B., and The Countess. I hope there is a secretary to record the minutes of the meeting of your New England Court.

I hope you have a truly wonderful time in Newport and I hope the Polo Match is everything it is supposed to be. Enjoy!!! :)

 
At 3:57 PM, Blogger Unknown said...

My sister just came back from Providence and a Cape Cod excursion. She toured the old mansions,"The Breakers," and many more. She took alot of pics that are just lovely. We're planning a spring getaway. I look forward to it and especialy seeing the mansions of the likes of Marble House and so on.

 
At 1:39 AM, Blogger Alexis du Bois said...

NONE of us ever escaped the watchful eye of du Barry. (She sleeps with open, don't you know?)

I know, Witch; I had the cutest memo from a manager you called. I was home that Sunday, too, attending to my neuralgia.

Good news: The American team won over The Brits. Bad news: The Countess stole the star Yank, Dan Keating, out of my waiting arms. She's treachery incarnate!

Babs, after reading the bio of Alva Vanderbilt I had to walk through a part of her life, too: Marble House. The whole town is great fun.

 
At 11:59 AM, Blogger Showtune said...

Darling, move up to Broward! You and I can become the new darlings of Rosie's!!! :)

 
At 6:30 AM, Blogger The INFOSEC Consultant said...

There will no more moving! Limosines and airplanes are available to whisk everyone anywhere. The notion of a New England winter fills me with dread (and I am coming into an Old England winter!!)

Also, is Florence headed for New York?? It is looking massive, so DUCK!!

 
At 11:49 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Doll

I just had to write a note to you about your kind words for my dear freind Michael McGarrah. He was loved by many but not as much as I loved him . He was realy a great freind.
As always I was choked up when reading your story of him, I think of him everyday.
I hope your trip to Newport was what you had expected, I know it was wonderful to have you here in Newport. This town awaits your return , and so do I.
You must return for the Holidays there is nothing like a Christmas in Newport.


The Countess du Barry

 

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