Life is like a box of chawcalettes…

Or in my case, like an eleven course gourmet meal, with bottomless champagne.

In a twist of excellent fate, at my friend’s birthday the other night, I was invited to dinner at David Burke Townhouse, courtesy of the chefs. I went there last night and had a most decadent meal, lead in to and lead out of by none other than Mr. DB himself.

What a scene. As tables filled and unfilled, course after delicious course was consumed, and the hours just flew. At one point, at the table next to us, ‘Gossip Girl’ came to life. Two young guys and two young girls, decked out in sport jackets, too-bright striped dress shirts (with requisite glitzy cuff links), and the girls’ skinny arms weighed down by trendy Chanel watches. It was a hoot, and my favorite line was “you just have to write your own story sometimes,” which I am guessing is the story of signing daddy’s name to the $300 check the kids racked up.

Seven hours later, I was back home – belly full and lips smiling, not quite sure it wasn’t all a dream.


One thought on “Life is like a box of chawcalettes…

  1. It was a lovely, surreal night and your description of it is equally endearing. The entire experience was unreal and unforgettable.

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