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Last evening, I had the pleasure of dropping by the
Clift Hotel's 100th anniversary party, which was a pretty swank affair even if I did observe a lot of vulgar people gobbling down oysters as fast as the kitchen staff could place them on the ice bed. (So tacky.)
But this woman in a Champagne skirt was positively a vision, feathered quill and all. She required constant attention from other staffers, replenishing those flutes of bubbly, because what's the point of being taken with such spectacle if you're not also going to accept the glass that's offered to you? (
The Bride Stripped Bare, By Her Bachelors Even!).
In case you're with OSHA and you smell a combination fire hazard and labor law violation, the skirt was on casters so she could move around, and she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. I would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, even if it meant slowly wheeling myself to safety in the event of a conflagration in the Redwood Room.
On that note, if you've ever heard the rumor that the entire Redwood Room was carved from a single tree, it is an urban legend.
