There are many things that encounters with often make me feel less intelligent: Star magazine, Diet Coke, shopping malls, and yes, darling, Los Angeles, can frequently be counted among them. But then again, New York ends up somewhere on that list half the time, especially when I'm getting my nails done (oops, another one). But not tonight.
I attended the benefit party for The Civilians, a brilliant and creative, politically-conscious theater company. There was at least one snappy number about Kant, and another satirical, and oddly cohesive, stab at recent current affairs involving birds of various sorts. I also enjoyed several very funny vignettes featuring company members, including a lively number performed in front of screened clips of their bit parts in Law and Order and a Wendy's commercial.
All Wear Bowlers and the Wau Wau Sisters were so, so stellar and -- without disparaging the other marvelous entertainment, I must admit -- my two favorite acts of the evening, which was a program of covers of songs written by composer Michael Friedman. Oh yes, and before I forget, I must go see Maude Maggart, who opened the show, perform her regular gig at the Oak Room at the Algonquin.
The music played by the DJ prior to the performance-oriented part of the evening was quite loud and sort of prevented me from chatting with people who were more than one or two inches away. I did get to say hello to Barry and James, two art collectors and bloggers whose work I very much enjoy and admire.
Bryan made an elegant companion in his dark suit and pink shirt with french cuffs and the new Paul Smith cufflinks he got at Fred Segal last time we were in Santa Monica. Ever myself, I planned all-manner of elegant ensembles only to scrap them all at the last minute for a brown low-cut dress over a black slip, paired with yellow chinoiserie sandals and and a stunning, recently acquired mother-of-pearl necklace from Hawaii. We also discussed meaningfully my recent revelation that I can only get my hair cut in Antwerp, where the mythical allure and importance of "the pony" is understood. He suggested we go for Thanksgiving then. This, dear readers, is why he is still my boyfriend after three years.
I also stopped by Daisy May's on the way for some sweet tea with fresh mint, looking as cool as one can taking half-hidden gulps from a Mason jar tucked inside my purse throughout the evening. Trashy perhaps, but not as gross as smoking cigarettes, which I haven't done in quite a while. Since Monday.
All in all, an exquisite night in support of a terrific artistic endeavor.
Comments