Alison
Berkley: The Princess's Palate
“Would you like some more white wine,
ma'am?” the waiter asked us at lunch this afternoon.
We were the only
ones in the entire restaurant, yet it had been at least an hour and still our
meals hadn't come. That meant we were drinking on empty stomachs, and either
those wine glasses were exceptionally large, or we are both becoming cheap dates
in our old age. It was a win-win either way.
We both shook our heads
vehemently. “No, no, no, that's OK, I'm good,” my friend Amy said.
“I
could give it to you complimentary,” he said.
Amy slid to the far side
of her seat as if to try to create more distance between herself and this evil
man who was clearly trying to corrupt us. “That's so not the issue. I
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sort of giggle that comes after a big, fat glass of wine on an empty stomach.
I sort of nodded my head in agreement, even though I knew it wouldn't
take much arm-twisting to carry our innocent little lunch date into post-work
cocktail hour. But I did the right thing and resisted. After all, I had a column
to write.
Despite our hectic schedules, we managed to squeeze in the
mandatory stop-by at Suzy's Consignment, where shoes by Christian Dior and
Versace miraculously appeared in Amy's size as if they were magnets and she were
a refrigerator.
“Okay, that's just weird,” I said. It's true Amy has a
gift. She was already modeling the Fendi canvas coat she'd acquired just
yesterday at the Aspen Thrift Shop. The woman has a wardrobe that's worth a
fortune even if she paid chump change for it.
“What can I say? I am
blessed,” she said, modeling a fine pair of gold Versace platform mules with big
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job of a friend to provide plenty of rationalizations for money spending and
shoe purchasing.
I also ran into another acquaintance who also just
happened to be shopping during her lunch hour. “Do you guys like this?” she
asked, modeling a lovely dress by Prada. It was enough to quell any guilt I had
about spending my day in this manner. Clearly, this is what the working class of
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“Love, love, love,” Amy said to
her. And then to me, “Let's go.”
I don't know if it was the long awaited
sunshine, or the wine, or that precious time during offseason when you have the
town all to yourself and it's just so beautiful and so private, but we were both
feeling pretty good.
“I so wanted that Prada dress,” Amy said after we
left.
On our walk back to her office, we got on the subject of the
recent cocaine bust.
“How crazy is it that all the drug dealers in Aspen
are like, over 60?” I said.
“I know,” she said. “It's pretty horrible.”
I told her I think it's awesome. I said I love how Aspen still has its
grit around the edges. I don't see it as a disturbing story about a federally
run drug bust that took place in our innocent, white bread, richy-rich little
town. I see it as a testament to this eccentric, law-bending community of wild
party people who are so obviously oblivious to the aging process.
Amy
shot me a look of disapproval and I said, “Hey, I'd take senior citizen coke
dealers over wealthy, straight-edge Republicans any day of the week.”
“Did you just make that up?” she asked. “That's good!”
I mean,
seriously. That's some retirement plan. I always thought my parents and their
little Over the Hill Gang in Steamboat were nuts, snowboarding and cycling and
having parties and carrying on like a bunch of ski bum kids. I guess I should be
glad the only drugs they're doing are the ones my Dad writes prescriptions for,
stuff like Viagra and Prozac and Xanax and maybe a few high-powered
anti-inflammatory meds on the side. (I'm almost 100 percent positive that's all
legal, and if it's not, sorry Dad!) I guess I should be glad he's not blowing my
inheritance on blow.
Speaking of blowing my inheritance, Amy and I got
to talking about my wedding, which is so far but yet so near, a mere few months
away.
“Do you have any idea how much it costs for a wedding cake?” I
asked her, pausing for dramatic effect. “I got a quote for nine-hundred dollars,
and that's just for a basic cake with no decorations or anything. And two
hundred dollars for delivery! I was like, what are they going to do, buy a
one-way plane ticket for the cake?”
People keep asking me where I'm at
with the planning, and I'm like, “I'm good, I'm all good!”
Meanwhile,
I'm having night sweats and these crazy dreams,Di samping menjadi pelopor kerja
sama dengan Air max tn like that my
florist is getting married the day before me. I went so far as to email her to
say, “There is no way I would ever expect you to work the day after your
wedding! That's crazy!”
It took me all of two days to realize her
wedding was a month before mine, not a day before. I knew that, I really did.
But when you are three months out from the biggest day of your life after
waiting for it approximately 10 to 15 years longer than most of your friends,
your mind gets a little jumbled sometimes.
Speaking of a jumbled mind,
after writing this column and then reading it (or maybe I should say “skimming
through it”), I realize I probably should have gotten that second glass of wine.
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