|Bouquets of ecru peonies are a specialty of Stephane Chapelle.|
Ooooh-la-la!A party! A fete! A celebration!
I ask you: What is more fun than getting all dressed up with someplace to go!? Exactement.
And, of course, we are not on the guest list of just any old mundane holiday soirée. No indeed. We were lucky enough to snag the(engraved) invitation of the season — Marsha pulled a few strings as she is wont to do — andTina agreed to open the doors to her dee-vine maison for an evening of what I think we all agree will probably go down in party history alongside major events created by the late Baroness Marie-Hélène de Rothschild.
A little background for those of you coming late to our monthly “By Invitation Only” party** founded by the above mentioned Marsha, whom you may also know as Spenderosa. We are given an “assignment” if you will and we are to interpret said challenge as we see fit. This month is right up my allée: We are to don our finest togs (and explain what they are, from head to toe) and select a gift for our hostess.
Alas, if only this were not a virtual gala. . . However, ’tis the season to exercise our limitless imaginations, n’est-ce pas?
Red pleated satin ballerinas.
Large red charmeuse evening pants from the extinct Compagnie de Chine. (Fortunately I have them in every imaginable color.)
Long Valentino black cashmere V-neck sweater.
Purple minaudiere from Gucci.
Gold cuffs with cabochon rubies.
Diamond and coral (they’re far enough away from the rubies that the combo works) teardrop earrings.
Et voila. Simple.
Now the details become slightly more complicated: the hostess gift. In my case it will be a two-part French classic. Let me explain. . .
At precisely 11 a.m., the day before the party, a massive bouquet of ecru peonies from the hottest, most branché fleuriste in all of Paris, Stephane Chapelle, will be delivered to Tina’s door. (One never brings flowers to a party.)
So that you know he is worthy of our hostess, Chapelle apprenticed with the famous Christian Tortu and he supplies all the arrangements for the magnificent rue Cambon apartment of Coco Chanel.
You may be wondering how I plan to pull this off? A piece of gateau, mes chers amis. The blooms will be transported from Paris to New York by my best friend who has a time share in the above pictured Lear jet. Her chauffeur will then deliver them directly to our hostess.
On the evening of the party I shall bring with me chocolates from the hottest, most branché chocolatier, in all of Paris, Jacques Genin. Since we are nombreux, I shall choose the box of 144 squares of perhaps the most deliriously sensuous chocolate one has ever experienced. Some critics are calling Genin “a genius” who has “re-mastered” the metier.
|How much more chic can one get when it comes to packaging? The matte “silver” metal monogrammed box is too, too elegant. Talk about l’art de vivre (and once opened, la joie de vivre. . .)|
I love to give exquisite chocolates because the host and hostess open them with coffee and share with their guests.