Countess Bedelia has prodded me to post something about the week. Who knows where the time goes when you have someone like Mr. Astor on your hands? In addition to being just as much of a social Godzilla I am, he can drink me one-to-one. Plus, he likes to eat as much as I like to cook, so I'm constantly thinking up new dinner ideas. There is also the clothing situation; we are continuing the sorting out of the move and all that came with it. And I got a threatening letter from Mrs. Styuvesant-Fish about the quip of seeing her knee prints int he sand. Who else wears knee-high paisly stockings? Tell me that!
There was just no way we could turn down the invitation by Edison to attend a glamorous little affair at The Astor. This Deco gem is just a block down from Twist and three blocks from The Palace for those who like to be in the thick of things and can't fork out $500 a night at The Countess's favorite, The Victor.

Juicy landed herself a big one on Thursday that just about everyone man or woman wanted to mount. Some people go fishing for the the big one and some to bingo.

Donnie had everyone in stitches with an old passport showing that he was indeed a Connie.

And, obviously, the Donatella Versace look is just not easily going die its deserved fashion death. Golden Blonde also looked like she had a little work done and was still quite fierce.

Last night Mr. Astor decided to "nap" after dinner. When I went into the bedroom to check up on him I found him him in pure, classic Leopoldo: expensive, see-thru shirt, designer glasses, one of his many diamond pinky rings, an outrageously pricey bottle of wine still in his hand (probably from under the bed), and a bracelet of some sort wrapped around the bottle. It didn't look like a Bulgari; it even had the look of, well, never mind. Good fun; good times and all is well.