Thanksgiving Fashion dinner at Maddox

Thanksgiving 50's American style

Eyes hidden behind my black Jacqui O's to avoid direct contact with the light of the computer screen, I am nursing the most accomplished hangover I have had in a long time. If this fate had fallen on Champagnista M's head, I can tell you right here right now that she would be curled up in agony in the left corner of her sofa with a hot water bottle on her stomach.

I am a veteran and -not ashamed to say it, too much of a party girl to deny it- a social drunkard, so I am at work, and even managed to make it on time this morning after 3 hours' sleep... and finishing off my flatmate's peanut butter with a spoon at 4am.

Dreadful flashback. I am not sure that the fat saved me from a worse morning feel or made it better, I am pretty nauseous, very slow, and absolutely appalled at the idea I ate about 600 full-fat calories that are going to sit straight on my ass in a couple of hours. I might have to stop eating all together for the next two days… Although it doesn’t seem like a problem right now, since I absolutely cannot stomach the thought of any type of food. Oh the bad hangover pun! If I was not so numb and incapable of any emotion at present, I think I might cry.

I did have a pretty good night yesterday: shame to have to pay for it this bad now… I was invited to a fashion dinner at Maddox, which is the place to be on Thursday nights like Whisky Mist is on Wednesday nights. I arrived there at 10pm, because the dinner started fashionably late, and found myself in the company of models, models and models, and Burlington Man, whom I should now call Maddox Man but since he has (definitely) not changed since he moved from the Burlington Club it might be a little misleading. He is now dating a beautiful Russian model with big breasts and dove wide blue eyes, who gave me a detailed enough account of the afternoon they had just spent in his bed… Obviously she did not know I had been there, but why on earth would she trust me with this kind of information after having met me 15 minutes before? I swear to God sometimes I wish I were not French and girls did not think I want to hear all about their sex lives…

Burlington Man being American, he hosted this Thanksgiving dinner New York style, and I must admit the food was gorgeous. No Thanksgiving starter, but a Thanksgiving starting tradition where everybody had to say what they were thankful for (you imagine the marshmallowesque comments people came up with, someone had to be outrageous and say that they were thankful for the money they made before the end of the round!). Fortunately it didn’t end with ‘God bless us all’ because on the subject of God’s existence, as Sacha Guitry would put it, now would be a good time for a small apparition… I don’t like religious feasts that much, as you can imagine.

At any rate I believe Thanksgiving is not so much a religious celebration as a commemoration of a massive slaughter by the first American pilgrims. All in all though, the lobster tail was delicate, and the turkey beautiful, and the mini pumpkin pies quite adorable. Even if I feel like I could puke just thinking of them now. The company was jolly and very beautiful, and it looked like the girls had agreed on a 1950’s wavy hairdo and red lips unity, although it was apparently a total coincidence. Not necessarily the most challenging of conversations, but there is something truly magic about beautiful and well-dressed people: contemplating them gives you pleasure like you would feel only at watching a moving work of art.

And the wine was good. Very. Good. Ooooooh, my head!

Champagnista V

PS: Next Champagnista party at Maddox on 4 December from 8:30pm