Henrietta's Birthday

At first it seemed the event had The Sword of Damacles above it. Our Easter luncheon had gone off spectacularly, even if it was judged necessary to move it inside. The sumptuous feast went on as the rare March rains resumed with thunder and lightening, but we all looked at each other with every clap of thunder wondering what this would hold for the birthday party. Baroness Seitzinger rang me up with the not-so-cryptic message, "I know you have something to do with this." No doubt, this was the spawn of an off-handed remark I made on Friday night at a meeting of The Daughters of The American Revolution book swap. "I curse The Palace with a weekend of rain" I said in a haze of Stoli and literature. Well, it rained and rained and rained to the point that I got so wet carrying Henrietta's home-cooked trays of food to the car that Mr. Astor had to go out and buy me a new, dry outfit. (Note to self: Use Rain to Advantage.)
But--as always--we made it and Twist was ready to set up a grand setting for the diva, who wore a vintage, Mexican dress from the 70's.

Weather did not stop the high and mighty from getting in line for the first plates of food and the whimsical basket of "eggs" Leopoldo and I had put together, each containing candies, toys, and sex paraphernalia was a great hit.

Thomas Barker cut his honeymoon in Key West short to attend with hubby, Jonathan. They argued about who was to be the "housewife" until I mentioned to Jonathan that I live a scant half block away and that he could come over with The Enquirer, exchange recipes with me, and sip gin by the pool every day. Suddenly, "housewife" didn't sound all that bad after all.

The bungalow bar soon got packed with the best South Beach night life had to offer, which pleased us so much. Unless you live here, you can not imagine how hard it is to get people to out in the afternoon; you have to do a sort of Salome' dance OR have a big-name celebrity like Henrietta on the marquis. I did both and felt satisfied and relieved that I had, indeed, delivered in this time of confusion and change.

It was one of those happy afternoons I always tried to maintain.

Sadly, I heard over and over stories about the mis-steps and confused signals the new owners of The Palace were sending. Cancelled shows and DJ's with offers by customers to pay for the drag queens themselves, sent knives through my body. Those fools have no idea that South Beach is not Lansing, Michigan. This is a close community that is well-off, bitchy and not accepting of eradict behaviour on the part of those supposed to entertain them. As the previous owner remarked, "They are in way over their heads", but--as the previous owner learned--the place, by virtue of its location, can defy even the most stubborn owners and decisions. We will all see.