I went to a dinner party the other night, hosted by one of my neighbour-ladies… each year she invites her girlfriends to supper at her house to celebrate her birthday. Not only is she a master at arranging an artful, delicious table full of savoury foods and sublime desserts, but it’s an opportunity to hang out with some women I love and admire for a few hours. As is the case with many of these ladies, the only time I get to visit with them is in this house, and it’s terrific to cozy up in a corner with a plate of nibbles and a glass of wine, trade stories and giggle my ass off with someone I haven’t seen in a long while.
And we rarely talk about children much. That is, in part, why these parties are so much fun. It’s awfully nice to talk about other things, when “the kids” is a huge part of your day job.
Dress code = wear whatever pleases you to Karen’s house, but that woman has probably the best collection of frocks and shoes I’ve ever seen. And she wears them without special occasion… it’s just how she gets dressed. She owns a vintage poster gallery here in town, and she totally dresses the part. (But she always has – even before the gallery – the costume department of Mad Men has nothing on this woman.)
I thought about donning a new cocktail skirt I bought some months ago (and haven’t had occasion to wear yet) but instead I opted for jeans and sparkly ballet flats, and a sheer blue blouse I love so very much (and have been wearing a lot, truth be told) but it’s just such an excellent garment – I’ve even managed to wear it braless sometimes, since it’s covered in a butterfly-like floral applique down the front, and studded with tear-shaped bead thingies here and there. You can’t see through it (especially in low-lighting) and never mind the droop of the boobies… it’s just how things are now. I’m still ecstatic at the fact that I bought it in blue and not black, which is always my natural inclination. It’s kinda gorgeous.
At the party, I sat with some ladies admiring my awesome blouse, and they were both floored when I told them I bought it from Forever 21. (Have I ever mentioned how much I love that store? Well, I do. You really must go there if you haven’t already… and everything is practically free. Run, don’t walk.)
We discussed fashion and “finds” and when they didn’t believe me when I said I bought a sequin jacket for about fifteen dollars last year, they demanded that I go home to retrieve it, and to please bring along anything else Made of Awesome. How handy that my house was almost directly across the street! I skipped across the road, and skipped back in about 2.5 minutes. I brought back the glorious jacket, as well as a sequin mini skirt, and a chocolate tutu.
We fingered the garments, and I flipped up hemlines so we could look at the seam work. I pointed out the places that could have had finer finishing… the hem turned under on the sequin skirt, for example, would rip your nylons to shreds – better to wear fishnets, I said. (Bare-legged is the best option for this skirt anyway.) The inside cuff of the jacket feels a bit rough on the wrists after you’ve been wearing it for a while… but at that price? Who really cares. I can have a seamstress add some ribbon to the inside if it bothers me so much.
The sequins are teeny-tiny O’s laying flat… very dramatic. Feels like New York. Or Vegas! It’s got a single button closure and a long lapel, and cuts away right at the waist, with a short vent at the back… it’s got a kind of classic tap dance feel to it. It’s very Liza with a “Z” and looks wonderful over just about any outfit you can think of.
I know, because we all took turns trying it on.
It was like The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants all of a sudden. Each woman would look at the S/P label in the collar, and moan about how it would surely be too small… and once her arms were in it, the jacket looked divine. On everyone.
Susan had on faded jeans and a white t-shirt, and her outfit went from everyday to crazy-glam, just like that. She has an awesome mane of silvery hair that is glam all by itself to start with though.
Penelope wore heavy black moto-boots and a colourful Betsy Johnson dress over black leggings… with her spiky hair, she looked even more like a rock star the minute she slipped the jacket on, despite how certain she was that her broad shoulders would never fit. She was dead wrong. And she looked amazing.
Paula’s lithe and lanky frame looked stunning with the jacket on over her bandage-y black mini skirt and black blouse. That South American woman plays tennis every day during good weather. Nothing looks bad on her. Ever.
I tell you, it was perfect on everyone – even on the Birthday Girl herself, who wore a black and white mini dress, and I made her put her off-white shiny go-go boots on… fabulous. I wish I had pictures. I’m so sad I don’t.
What a splendid evening… saw lots of old friends, and made some new ones. Karen’s house is one of my favourite places to be for a party. Her home is artful and soulful… she allows people to smoke in the kitchen once the party moves past a certain hour – which would have been wonderful for me if I still smoked – but it’s all just so comfortable and homey, with all kinds of glamourous, collected items to look at and wicked artwork on all the walls.
Now if we could just convince her to host one every four weeks or so, I just might have the lifestyle I keep shopping for.
Or, perhaps I should have a party myself…
G.G.
