Why I should never have an appointment with my trainer after a party at the Met...

With the world in depths of despair and magazines folding I have become a Recessionista.
Yes it is true. I have cut back clothing allowance and been pitching every charity ball invite in the recycling bin.
It’s just too much these days!
I was sorry to miss the Apollo Circle Ball at the Met but I just couldn't do it this year.
After all I did just get back from Russia.

But Lucy, kind as she is, invited me as her date. Her theory? Of all the men she is dating, none would be as much fun as moi on the dance floor. I was honored.

The theme was Baroque (going for Baroque maybe?)
So I assumed- costume!
Wrong.

I wore an Edwardian tailcoat, satin ascot and Nardi brooch therefore resembling the Baron de Rede.
Every other man was just in a stalwart tuxedo. Boo!

No matter. I still had a blast. Lucy wore a ball gown her mother made for a Broadway premier in 1982. Linnea wore an amazing bronze glittery 1920's number and Megan was a sexpot in floor length chocolate.

I of course promised everyone I would be a docile dandy for the evening. I had an appointment with my trainer the next morning at 8am and have never canceled once. Well...

After a bottle or two of champagne at the house we headed down to the Met and entered the Temple of Dendure post photo shoot with Billy from Patrick McMullan. The temple really looked swank with massive vases filled with gold magnolia leaves.

My boy Paul Sevigny was spinning and he always plays the best jams so I knew the dance floor would be smoking.
Lucy and I made the rounds from one bar to the other. We did this not to drink more but so nobody would see how much food we were shoveling in our mouths. Dinner!

As the place began to swell with people so did my head with bubbles. I met a cute boy outside who was bored of his friends and he joined our camp and proceeded to get excited about Linnea. We all hit the dance floor and things got fuzzy after that.

When the party wound down at 12 we headed home, boy included! Apparently I alerted the media that I was having an after party. We piled into my house, woke up Frankie with champagne popping and woke up Rod with our dancing. We defrosted pizza and swayed to Nina Simone.

Finally I passed out around 3am and woke up at 9 am with a very terse text from my trainer. Ooops.
I find boy passed out in my guest bedroom. We share a slice of pizza and he heads home.

I think he has a date with Linnea this week. TBC.

Thank you Lucy for a most memorable night!
Now I'm off to the gym, for real.