"the" Mrs. Astor

Monday, July 25, 2011

I know how negligent I have been; if I get one more inquiry as to whether or not I am still alive, I will kill myself. It is not that I have the most demanding work schedule, either. For as long as I can remember, these were the slow months. But, starting with Twist's anniversary on June 29, there has been a relentless number of events to deal with. I count at least four birthdays or anniversaries a week
Of course, we celebrated our fifth on the fifteenth. A few days later, Score celebrated their thirteenth . Before you knew it, you were showing up for dog parties. The new Polaroid camera didn't help things; it was a great hit with the young set (who were amazed by the suddenness of fame).

I also spent a lot of time reading about The Countess of Rothes; what a lovely woman. I almost awarded the title to a Palm Beach matron but withdrew it at the last moment. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish disdains the awarding of titles, although I know some must have one to survive the social tsunami out there. Neither one of us has a title; we were born into "position".

So, Mr. Astor and I have been marauding around town engaging in a type of social drive-by-shooting; I'm not proud of our behaviour, but it sure has been fun. We are taking Henrietta to Key West this weekend for a "rest".
And, we have both been captivated by our Nicholas.

I don't know what else to say, except that I have let The Beach get to me again. I am way to "advanced" to keep dancing on table tops, but poo-poo happens. Thank God for the sound advice from friends like Mamie; if I ever get any, I will listen.

Friday, July 01, 2011

All roads lead to Rome; on Wednesday night Rome was--as usual--Twist, which was celebrating its eighteenth, yes eighteenth, anniversary with Gladiatorial drag queen fights, mock naval battles, and even some Christians eaten (willingly) . While carriages, chariots, and limos lined up outside, The Queen of South Beach, Henrietta, immediately, hooked up with Twist owner, Emperor Richard Trainor. We couldn't stay long--although long enough to show off her sequined, laced, and fringed dress along with an enough diamonds to rival that of the Duchess of Windsor--but, when we left at two, mobs of South Beach diplomats and elegant riff-raff were piling in. Only if we didn't have to work the next day; it might have been like last weekend. Oh, no; what am I thinking; those days are gone.