You should never ask anyone who looks fabulous at a party what she does for a living, and certainly don’t ask her her name–always pretend you know. Especially when the person in question is the ravishing Sofia Lamar, New York social royalty who’s been keeping company with the likes of Richie Rich, Amanda Lepore, and Kenny Kenny for over 20 years.
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Sofia Lamar–wrapped like a pin-thin, doe-eyed present in a dress that looked like a wool army blanket remixed into a short, complicated concoction of loops and bows–pointed out some dude in a floppy beret and a pirate pendant. “He keep asking me my name,” she said in her vaguely European accent, “and what I do.” I shook my head in disgust. “I tole him, ‘Google me. Jus’ google me,’ I say.”
Two lesbians with dubious balance careered into me, setting off a stupid pushing and kicking fight that sent my gold leather bracelet flying. Sofia Lamar took a little more interest in me after that. “What your name again?” she asked. “Jill?”
It was taking forever to get to the part where the extremely boring and not that cute Kirsten Dunst says “Let them eat cake”–which she does toward the bitter end, lounging in the bathtub wearing near-black lipstick–so during one of the movie’s many, many parties we busted out the gluten-free, dairy-free cupcakes my boyfriend had made. We’d already downed our first bottle of sparkling wine–popped open during a fake coughing fit that didn’t keep the whole audience from hearing us anyway–but the next bottle had a regular old cork and we’d forgotten a corkscrew.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos/Andrea Bauer.
