Some of the most glamorous ladies in society put on their finest to attend the great ball at The Palace last night. Despite war, famine, and insurrection, the grandest gowns and jewels adorned these women; young men begged for introductions and reporters had to be whipped away. It was so good to return to those carefree days which so often seem to have slipped through our gloved fingers.
I wasn't through preparing for the ball when a rabid photographer caught me looking for the social doyens who were slipping through the back door to escape notice.
Soon thereafter, they arrived in force.

Mr. Astor and I gratefully thanked the evening for bestowing such wonder upon us. Somehow, my hair never got finished, but as my lawyer, Riley, would say, "When it is you who wields power, you don't have to answer to anyone."

At some point during any great evening, things start to unravel.

Certain, not necessarily glamorous, persons pop up.

You have to start questioning if it is really time to gracefully exit.

Established stars get suspicious of the machinations of the upstarts.

And, there is always a black woman trying to grab the attention.

And, when the revolutionaries did start to climb the gates, the society ladies were confident that their simple "Stop" would keep them at bay. Leopold and I looked at each other and said at the same time said, "It didn't work in St. Petersburg in 1917 and it won't work now." That's when we slipped out the back door.

My thanks to everyone.