Did the Duke of Wellington carry it off? The great thing about the US is that any European with a proper accent can give him/herself self a title (“viscount” Is probably the safest) and be welcomed with open arms by celebrity society. Though this may be more difficult in the age of global search.
The old New York custom of putting coats on the bed once resulted in my taking another guest's coat and walking out the door with it. ( Not coat theft, just confusion in a dark bedroom).
Appleton, Long gone. I do remember that the Styles editor was not happy when I turned in the expense account, which included flowers, wine, stemware and all that chow. But it was a terrific party.
i can only imagine...1999 now seems as far away and oddly innocent and open to amnesiac partying as the Greenwich Village Dylan found in 1961 when
still some intangible unexpressed mystery hope floating in the air 😉👹
re nostalgia: my buddy was the innkeeper at that old Rhinebeck Inn for a few years decades ago and i still recall the low ceiling timbers of its dining room/bar area 🙏
Did this piece run, or are you recollecting said piece? If it ran, my God they let you write long at the Times. (I wrote to 750 words, but I was tied to a syndicate.)
But speaking of Butlers and Mr. Burrell, I offer you and the gang a fab story from the late Queen Mum’s butler, who when I met him was Bing Crosby’s butler. He did tell a divine story about the Queen Mum, who drank a little. Well, OK, a lot. So one night around cocktail time she phones the kitchen to say, “I don’t know what you queens down there are having, but the Queen up here would like a gin and tonic.”
And here’s a bonus butler bit: “Palace trained” help were prized in old Hollywood. Edie Goetz made it known that more than one of her staff were “palace trained.” I don’t think we have an American equivalent, alas.
Oh Joyce, It was a glorious evening! I loved it and had no idea how much prep was involved. It seemed completely effortless. I admit I did want to take Mr. Burell by his lapels and get him to tell me everything. Sadly it was obvious that wouldn't work.
You should also know that on the entertaining spectrum, if you have Martha Stewart at one end and the spectrum stretches to Mars, on the opposite end you would have me.
Then I polish the silver trays and serving utensils given to me by my mother, a one time antique dealer who specialized in unwieldy antiques of no value.
Did the Duke of Wellington carry it off? The great thing about the US is that any European with a proper accent can give him/herself self a title (“viscount” Is probably the safest) and be welcomed with open arms by celebrity society. Though this may be more difficult in the age of global search.
The old New York custom of putting coats on the bed once resulted in my taking another guest's coat and walking out the door with it. ( Not coat theft, just confusion in a dark bedroom).
I was once faced with the temptation of walking out with a Jil Sander. Happy to report, I denied it.
Long Live the Queen! Trust you still have the high-ball glasses
Appleton, Long gone. I do remember that the Styles editor was not happy when I turned in the expense account, which included flowers, wine, stemware and all that chow. But it was a terrific party.
i can only imagine...1999 now seems as far away and oddly innocent and open to amnesiac partying as the Greenwich Village Dylan found in 1961 when
still some intangible unexpressed mystery hope floating in the air 😉👹
re nostalgia: my buddy was the innkeeper at that old Rhinebeck Inn for a few years decades ago and i still recall the low ceiling timbers of its dining room/bar area 🙏
correction: Beekman Arms?
Did this piece run, or are you recollecting said piece? If it ran, my God they let you write long at the Times. (I wrote to 750 words, but I was tied to a syndicate.)
But speaking of Butlers and Mr. Burrell, I offer you and the gang a fab story from the late Queen Mum’s butler, who when I met him was Bing Crosby’s butler. He did tell a divine story about the Queen Mum, who drank a little. Well, OK, a lot. So one night around cocktail time she phones the kitchen to say, “I don’t know what you queens down there are having, but the Queen up here would like a gin and tonic.”
And here’s a bonus butler bit: “Palace trained” help were prized in old Hollywood. Edie Goetz made it known that more than one of her staff were “palace trained.” I don’t think we have an American equivalent, alas.
this was a recollection. When I did features at the Times they were probably closer to the 1200 to 1400 word range – I really don’t remember.
My God, that's still the length of two syndicated columns. I don't know how you did it.
What a wonderful tale! Yay for you! I could be the Lady in Waiting…or Bridgie, the Irish maid in to do the “terlets.”
How humble of Herb. To be introduced as the Duke of Wellington when he really is the Prince of Wales.
What does one tip a butler? (does one tip a butler?)
A feature in the Styles section of The New York TImes is always appreciated.
Oh Joyce, It was a glorious evening! I loved it and had no idea how much prep was involved. It seemed completely effortless. I admit I did want to take Mr. Burell by his lapels and get him to tell me everything. Sadly it was obvious that wouldn't work.
Wonderful! Congrats on the subscribers.
Huzzah! Joyce is back!
You should also know that on the entertaining spectrum, if you have Martha Stewart at one end and the spectrum stretches to Mars, on the opposite end you would have me.
Then I polish the silver trays and serving utensils given to me by my mother, a one time antique dealer who specialized in unwieldy antiques of no value.