The chilly weather has finally abated, but not my lust for luxury. Tonight is the infamous Warsaw Ballroom party and I may need Henrietta's coat for a grand entrance. No; I'm actually a card-carrying PETA member (although I belong to that wing that excuses antique items), and I'll be wearing the other card I carry (thanks to Leopoldo) : PRADA.
Yesterday, I awoke at the unGodly hour of 5:30 AM and made over seven dozen cakes and muffins for a benefit in Bal Harbour for Haiti: there were gigantic boo-berry muffins, raisin bran cakes with granola toppings, supremely decadent chocolate cakes with coconut, and on and on. (I have a habit of throwing anything at hand in my baked goods.) I told Mr. Astor, who gasped when he finally awoke a 10:30 AM expecting breakfast (and seeing six boxes he had to carry), that I was surprised I didn't succumb to spontaneous combustion with all the oven heat. The take for my cakes: over $800. Damn; let them eat more cake.
Next stop on the train to Hell: Warsaw.