On the Town with The Petite Sophisticate

So, despite my usual mid-Victorian state of vaguely indifferent health, I have been valiantly O&A in the past few. For starters, a disastrous dinner with GK4, former fiance, which, despite the application to face, gullet of excellent pizza, predictably degenerated into recriminations (mine), fury (mine), cutting insults (mine), and self-pitying narcissism (his.) Slim was his usual even-keeled self. Also as usual, everything ended up fine. (A friend said to me the other day, 'Ran into GK4 the other day. He looked the way he always looks: pissed at modernity.') That evening was supposed to culminate in a Mad Hatter-themed birthday party but, despite the jaunty leghorn I was sporting, I got too tired and confined my evening's activities to sneaking into an open tenament with Slim and looking at the skyline/rats from the roof.

(Buckingham just brought me a delicious cocoa. I am sipping it. It is my last weekday as a Shopgirl which is very bittersweet. Unlike this sweet, sweet cocoa.)Various Slim updates: he is working as a part-time broker now and carries a dress shirt in his tool kit at all times. When he doesn't get carpentry work he hightails it down to Wall Street. He has also authorized me to fill the gaps in his wardrobe, which has resulted in a slight but perceptible sharpening of his look which, I fancy, doesn't amount to making over. I hope not, anyway. He's been doing lots of glamorous stuff lately with bands and after-parties which is as a rule the sort of thing I avoid and apparently his new ensembles (primarily some gently vintage plaid shirts and a pale blue cardigan, $cheap at this awful hipster trade emporium in Williamsburg) have been eliciting much admiration from all.

Pursuant of this, I was persuaded Sunday evening to go out to a highly exclusive underground spot in the West Village that affects speakeasy airs and has a hip-celeb clientele. As being found wanting by bouncers is absolutely my idea of hell, I initially demurred but I was assured that we'd get in as an acquaintance was the DJ. Anyway. I wore this purple silk disco-ish tunic dress with a thin gold belt that I got when it got damaged at the store. With this I sported high brown boots, my most imposing spectacles and, for just the right touch of dowdy je ne sais quoi, a large wool scarf I got at a stoop sale a few years ago after a keen crocheter passed away. I directed Slim to wear one of the new, slim, shirts with a knit tie. We did get in without too much trouble, as we were with a "party." The place was completely empty. I mean, we were literally the only ones there. Granted, it was only 11.30, but even so. We got a $20 champagne cocktail and settled into a couch. After a while various moddles and guys who looked like they might have been the minor members of bands we hadn't heard of showed up in outfits. Everyone sat around smoking in the 'upstairs' part. They played 60's French pop. We sat around for a while and smoked a cigarette just cause we could. Then we went to The Donut Pub which was altogether more our scene and budget.

Last night some girl friends and I went out to celebrate various minor triumphs over Barolo at a nearby wine bar that looks like a log cabin. On the subway home, Slim (who was in the area) got hijacked by a loose-looking creature in booties with whom he'd apparently attended high school, and later I got a migraine, but we ended the evening on a good note, looking up all the Law & Order episodes in which people we knew had appeared, including this bartender and someone from Slim's junior high.