And so ’tis Christmas and what have they done? THEY INVITED TOO MANY PEOPLE, DAMN ‘EM!
Every year I go with friends to the large home of a popular actress who is also, bless her, getting a bit large. But I love her truly as she is mad and female and honest and quite fun really. (Think her husband has had Botox all over his face as it never seems to move.)
So, I get duded up to head on out – black halter, Biba vintage make-up (not sure vintage make-up SUCH a good idea), sensible black shoes and a shit-kicking red swag from Mumbai and white ruched gloves – and the friends smile and say, ‘Kaaarrrren. Don’t you remember what this party was like last year? It was very crrrowwwded.’ ‘Eh,’ I say, ‘I’ll take my chances.’
Shoulda listened. The place was rammed. The crowd started at the door: a sea of black and swollen red faces. A room heaving like a Titanic lifeboat. The waiters had murder in their eyes and the musicians – stuffed in the corner – were running with sweat. Any idea of making an entrance (like, why?) was gone with the wind and soon I too was out in the back garden with the smokers, cute little swag and gloves stuffed into handbag. We came, we drank, we left.
What makes a perfect party? ME! And, maybe, fewer people and more canapés and cuter guys. Is that so much to ask?