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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As a writer, I am charmingly unoriginal. I use the same letters as everyone else and much of the identical punctuation but in my defense, Coca-Colas are all the same, and each one is delightfully refreshing. On Sundays my Grandmère throws these fêtes, ‘social lunches’ where anyone might drop in - attendance, I‘m told, can be a social signal. Two weeks ago, it was fashion week and ‘smart society’ (the vampire pale and dangerously thin individuals casually dressed to kill) were trolling for fun. There were about 150 people there, like the Mayor of Paris, Saint Laurent’s Anthony Vaccarello, Léna Situations (GenZ influencer), Just Riadh (comedian), Delphine Arnault and the Archbishop of Paris - to name a few. But I was only there for a half an hour, and it wasn’t my job to take roll. Now, these parties all play-out, to me, like romcom ‘problem comedies.’ You have the ever-present and delicate aroma of cocktails, an Archbishop (subconsciously dangling the high trap of moral purification and great, heavenly rewards), elder frenchmen, like my uncle Remy with his languid, cigarette-lipped, smoke-cured profanity, some models hoping to be seen and younger, eager eyed, corporate boy-men types ogling every feminine creature with alcoholic heartiness. I don’t think Grandmère sees the fun undercard of human foibles, but there are big alcohol-fueled feelings in every register as these events hit their peak. Growing up, at these things, I’d sit quietly in a corner, usually with a book, pretending to read and just people watch. Everyone’s coming and going (‘free-drinks’) but 30 or 40 people are always around somewhere. These days, Peter shares my little, flowered, corner settee. We sit, shoulder to shoulder, and snark, like huckstas for a sports book, about who’s thirsty for whom. It’s all questionable information, surface impressions and instant verdicts. . . A Song for this: Someone In The Crowd - Emma Stone, Callie Hernandez, Sonoya Mizuno & Jessica Rothe
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