Madame's Nightshirt
Mrs. Peperium
Longtime readers may recall this story from the archives:
...Being a political adviser sounds much more glamorous than it is. It's really a lousy job but it has its perks, if you like perks. I was at the age where perks were still fun. The perk I enjoyed most was being invited to parties that were way beyond my social reach. Soon after I was on board the campaign, I received my first ecru, but not engraved, heavy stock invitation for 'Cocktails with our Candidate' at a very posh home of an old family. Mr. P was out of town on business so I asked a friend from Boston to accompany me. He and I had, as we were fond of saying, both married locals. Now we found ourselves a few years later living in the same town and, more than that, his wife and Mr. P were on the same shoot in LA. So my friend put on his Sunday best, I put on mine and off we went to this posh party.
The house was very old school and quite spectacular if you are into English country living. (Which I am.) The party was comprised of all kinds of people with deep wallets eager to pony up to the bar of political favors. Everything from the elderly ladies from the Gardening Club to the mafia and anything in between was there. In the living room, there was a stunning painting of our hostess. When the politician brought the hostess over to make our acquaintance, I asked her about the painting. She told me her father had had it done at the time of her debut. As I openly admired it, people gathered around around to listen to her tell details of her life back then. Due to the style of the clothing she was wearing in it, it was easy to detect the painting dated from the late '60's or early '70's. Our hostess had been a spectacular-looking young lady. It was not hard to conclude from looking at the painting, as well as looking at the beauty our hostess still retained almost 30 years later, how she had made such an advantageous marriage. It was then I felt the impulse to remark "In your day, people must have always been telling you you looked exactly like Ali MacGraw." Our hostess stopped, looked at me and said, "In your day?" She hit me on the shoulder (hard) with the back of her hand, uttered a very loud nervous laugh and said, "Aren't you the quaint one!" She then took the politician by the arm telling him she had something she needed to discuss with him out on the patio. They walked away with him telling her how much she still looked like she did in the painting.
It was as she walked away, that I first noticed she was wearing a micro mini skirt, black sheer stockings first made popular by Ali MacGraw in Love Story and stiletto heels. I also noticed how wide she swung her slim hips as she walked. While she was still a spectacular-looking woman, she had to be almost 50 and wearing an outfit more suited to a 19 year-old exotic dancer who was having dinner with one of her important clients. This was Grade A Choice mutton dressed as lamb. It was watching her manner of greeting to a group of well-to-do older (and all married) men on the elegant slate patio, overlooking the grounds of the country club, when I realized the full impact of what I had (most accidentally) done to her by saying "in your day". I told my friend we had better leave the party and (more importantly) leave without saying good-bye. As we were waiting for the valet to bring up the car, we overheard a group of people talking about how it had been only 6 months or so since her husband had killed himself in his study. When they brought the car to me I took one last long look back at the house because I knew I was never coming back...
I am enjoying a Guinness and am in conversation with a very elegant new acquaintance. This acquaintance and I are learning we have many things in common. I've just discovered where she resides in our hamlet.
Me : Oh, I've always thought the house that backs up to yours would be perfect for us. The two big magnolia trees out front are just gorgeous. The house is beautiful and the yard is huge. An elderly couple from our old church own it. I had always hoped they would have put it on the market by now and we would've bought it.
The New Acquaintance: That is a beautiful house. The yard is big. And in its' day, that yard was really something to behold.
Me: In its' day? I love it when people use that phrase.
TNA: It is a good one, isn't it? But people don't like it when you use it.
Me: I know. I was once hit by a woman for using it.
TNA: Someone hit you for saying in its' day? Someone from here?
Me : (laughing) Yes. Here!
TNA: (starting to laugh) Who hit you?
Me: (laughing harder) ___________ hit me!
TNA: (with eyes wide open and no longer laughing) _____________ hit you? How?
Me: I was at a party at her home for ___________ . Do you know him?
TNA: Oh yes.
Me: (continuing on) I had never been to her home before. In the living room there is a big painting of her done at the time of her debut. I looked at it and said something like "in your day, you looked like Ali McGraw" It was meant as a compliment.
TNA : It was a compliment. But you said in your day to her? Oh...no...
Me: (laughing) Yes. I did.
TNA: (laughing) And she hit you?
Me: Yes. It was really a slap to my arm. But still, she hit me and it hurt.
TNA: (shaking her head) You know the story about her don't you?
Me: No.
TNA's husband : (interupting his conversation to lean over the back of the sofa and speak to his wife) Wait. Before you go any further, are you sure this is a fact? We don't want to be spreading rumours.
TNA: Yes. It's a fact. I've had it confirmed by more than 25 people. Besides, everyone knew it and was saying it at the time.
TNA's husband: (thinking) That's right. It's a fact. Go on.
TNA : Her husband killed himself.
Me: I knew that. He blew his head off in the study.
TNA : No, he blew his head off in the foyer. She was having an affair and he was so upset, he walked in the house one night just before Halloween and shot himself in the head. She wasn't home at the time but their boys were. They were about 5 and 7 then. I'm pretty sure both saw their Dad dead on the floor.
I looked at my new acquaintance's husband. He nodded yes and said, "It was really sad."
Me : That's awful. No wonder there wasn't any furniture in the foyer.
TNA: There wasn't?
Me : No. I was there about 6 months after he had killed himself. I thought it was so strange because the foyer is huge. It was empty except for maybe a table. The wooden floors creaked and echoed as we walked across them.
TNA: How eery.
Me : You mean to tell me she was having an affair on her husband and he blew his head off and she hit me for saying in your day?
TNA : (nodding her head up and down) I once saw her pour a drink on one man and turn around and slap another man across the face.
Me: What?
TNA : A group of us were out at _________. She was there. A guy who is a permanent bachelor - he's rich, still lives at home with his parents, and always dating different women was there. It was thought she and he were an item at the time.
Me: Was her husband dead at this point?
TNA: Yes he was. She was talking to this bachelor guy when all of a sudden she poured a drink over the head of the guy standing next to him. Then she turned to the bachelor guy, slapped him across the face and stormed off to the bathroom.
Me: What did you do?
TNA: We left.
Me : She was behaving like this in public after her husband had killed himself because of her affair? With two young boys at home who had seen their father dead on the floor?
TNA: Yes.
Me: Unbelievable.
TNA: Do you know what I think?
Me : What?
TNA: She's a real...(pausing to reassure herself that no one was listening, she then mouthed a certain rugged adjective most recently applied in this space to a female presidential candidate).
Last year, the appearance of the original To the Manor Born caused Sir Basil Seal to observe:
I learn that Mrs. P, before she spent her time ridiculing her readers here on the Internet, spent her time ridiculing wealthy patrons in their own homes...Well, I'm sure they deserved it, don't you know...
Well Sir Basil, as usual, you were right. Weren't you?
Now I'm going to close my eyes and imagine you look like Penelope Keith. Back in her day.
Posted by: Robbo the Llama Butcher | January 15, 2008 at 11:30 AM
The stories just keep on getting better here!
A young Ali McGraw was something great to look at in her day.
Posted by: Mario Mandingo | January 15, 2008 at 12:44 PM
Robbo...my paternal grandmother's maiden name was Keith....and back in my day it was said that I got my figgah from her...
Posted by: Mrs. Peperium | January 15, 2008 at 04:41 PM
How dare you! ________________ is my mother.
Posted by: NBS | January 16, 2008 at 04:20 PM
You must be very good-looking.
Posted by: Mrs. Peperium | January 16, 2008 at 06:53 PM
You have no idea.
Oh! You'll find this interesting/completely disturbing. There is a subdivision here--you know how they all have those asinine names that some developer thinks sounds classy--and this one is call "Wellbourne Manor." Get it? Get it? But it is still a freaking subdivision and not a particularly nice one at that. I'm sure hardly anyone even makes the whole "Well-born" connection, but the first time I saw it, I laughed out loud. Can you imagine telling people you live in Wellbourne Manor?
Posted by: Nasty, Brutish and Short | January 16, 2008 at 10:38 PM