At a chic dinner party last week, a friendly chow—as big and black as a dog can be without being a bear—sniffed a lady’s bum during a pre-dinner drink. I happened to be standing behind the lady, and she raised her hand in anger. “It’s Bessie the dog,” I stammered. “What is wrong with you? I don’t do that anymore.” The lady in question is of a certain age, and the last one at the party I’d goose, but such are the joys of a bad reputation.
Oh, yes, before I forget: Marina, Princess of Savoy, who one month ago accused me of having locked her up for two days aboard my boat, has now recanted, and admits it was another awful Greek shipowner who did the dastardly deed. She also admitted that had it been me—this happened fifty years ago—she would have gladly been locked up. “You used to be cute” was the way she put it. I think she’s being much too kind.
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As always, what bliss it is to feel healthy again. In fact, it leads to far too much partying as a result. Arki Busson, the seducer, and impregnator of film stars and hedge-fund manager extraordinaire blew into town, staying next door chez Geoffrey Moore. I was best man at Arki’s parents’ wedding more than fifty years ago, and such was the ensuing disaster, no one has ever asked me to perform that task again. But I love Arki because he is a very bad boy in the good sense of the word. His arrival at my new chalet caused an upheaval. We stayed up until 5 a.m. and left the place looking like a Cuban (before Castro) whorehouse on a Sunday morning. The MoMC was not best pleased, but she too loves Arki, so all was forgiven.
The festivities continued high up at the Eagle Club the next day, but wiser heads prevented me from attending. My son stood in for his grievously hungover father, and by taking a day off I was able to rejoin the fiesta until Arki finally bade us goodbye and flew off to Hong Kong and pressing business deals with the tricky Chinese. The other good news is that Michael Mailer flew over from New York and hit the party scene without missing a beat. He went off skiing with me on no sleep, and after the all-night blast skied with my speed-demon son and made it back alive.
