Thursday, April 15, 2004

"That's where they keep the maids who steal."

I went to an open house last night, hosted by one of my company's clients. It was basically a showcase for her interior designer, so it was a pretty big affair. I usually don't get a chance to use words like "opulent," "sumptious," or "so obscenely wealthy it makes me want to vomit all over my cheap slacks" in the same sentence, so wow. In situations like this, I always start worrying that I reek of off-the-rack; like wealthy attendees will start wrinkling their noses and asking one another, "Do you smell lower-middle class? Quick, check your shoes..." To quote author Joe Keenan, I was horrified by the excess, and terrified of not fitting in.

I did get to mingle with some upper-crust types, though, so that was fun. I managed to slip a business card to a costume designer who just designed draperies for Robert Rodriguez, and I curtailed my alcohol intake to one glass of wine, so no slurry comments or off-color remarks bubbled out of my mouth. Except for the fact that this mansion is located in a gated community only blocks from my run-down condo, which made me feel like the friendly neighborhood squatter, a good time was had by all.

Favorite overheard conversation of the evening:

Jealous Socialite #1: "Is their wine cellar bigger than mine?!"
Jealous Socialite #2: "Yes."

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