The guests lounge in the nineteenth century salon getting to know each other.
The rooms had been the scene of many parties. This is the first one of 2014.
Low lights and flickering candles flatter everyone's complexion.
Nico makes his way among the partygoers sometimes getting his head patted or ears scratched and sometimes helping himself to an unsupervised hors d'oeuvre.
The invitation said festive cocktails and the guests have taken the words seriously. Fabrics like duchesse satin, brocade and silk chiffon in every color make the room glow like a Sargent painting.
Nico was no judge of shoes, and even though a dog, had not developed a taste for footwear. But he could see that the crowd had pulled out all the stops. Manolo Blahnik, Christian Louboutin, Yves St Laurent, Prada, Rochas, Chanel, Balenciaga and many more made appearances on the crowd's carefully pedicured feet.
Bookworm4479, Bonaduz, DSPallas, Onewritergirl93 and Holobe relax on the silk sofa. Having been at the party for more than an hour, they are already deep into their second shaker of French 75's.
GrayDoll and LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou have both chosen to wear black Calvin Klein, one in strapless and the other in backless. They drink champagne and chat. The chandelier light cast their shadows against the wall.
Idan, Hayseed Socrates, SueShay, Nic73, Louise Kurylo, and Pellegrina are huddled together trading theories about the purpose of this gala.
MissDonnie, Make-mine-a-kiaroa, Clairesredpen and KrrdmN are grouped near the window watching as the swirling snow covered the city.
Laubelle88, Mrs. Sastre and Anne Hedonia have picked the lock on the liquor cabinet and are making reverse martinis for all who want them.
Et voila1312, Janesbiotch, klcarr892 and BlissandHurricanes are dipping maraschino cherries in kirsch and tossing them in Nico's mouth. Ink11 is dipping maraschino cherries in kirsch and eating them herself.
MelitotProudEye, Elc41, Xanderseye, trytryagain357, ronissomine, Mimi3005 aka Caro, Jane-i-need-you, Rosepeony, Noan3105 and MarciaSantos are playing a game of Mentalist trivia none of them are losing.
Donnamour1969, dressed to the nines, rushes in late having been occupied writing her latest piece.
The crowd is glamorous but getting curious and boisterous.
Nico retires to the hallway where his paws will be safe from stilettos.
All evening, Entwife Incognito sits on a slipper chair positioned directly opposite the salon entrance. She is stunning in a Ralph Lauren beaded slip dress. She has imbibed only water. She is also the only one there who's chosen to wear flats. Navy silk Roger Vivier pilgrims. She seems ready and able to spring.
Outside in the hallway, Nico begins to bark. The doorbell rings.
Clairebare in a shocking pink vintage Schiaparelli teeters to the door, the result of 4 inch Jimmy Choo sandals and 3 French 75's.
She opens the door. "Hello," Clairebare says musically. "How kind of you to come."
"Uh, hi," he says. "I got this message saying this was a life or-
"Oh, don't worry about that, we'll get that all sorted out" says Clairebare, dusting the snow off his hair.
She pulls him inside by the hand and with the help of Nico, herds him down the hall.
"Just kick off your boots and leave them there. Wouldn't want to track snow on my nice wood floor." Clairebare says. He obediently steps out of them.
Clairebare continues. "Wonderful night out there isn't it? Don't you just love when the city's deep in snow? Though Lord knows, I don't think this bodes well for the new mayor. These major snowstorms are political quicksand. Don't you agree?" Clairebare briskly guides him down the hall.
He pauses. "Uh, I don't really-
"Look at this. Nico likes you. Do you like dogs? I just love them. I find them so soothing."
"But-"
"May I take your coat?" Clairebare swiftly takes his coat off and drapes it over her arm.
"Uh…?"
"Your jacket? Clairebare says impatiently, her hand poised, her Jimmy Choo tapping.
Confused, he takes off his jacket and hands it to her.
"Your shirt? I can have it washed and ironed for you."
They come to a halt right outside the salon door.
"My….shirt?" He's even more confused. "No, I think I'll keep it…thanks."
"You're sure? You won't really need it, you know." Clairebare puts her hand on the doorknob.
He says, "Aren't you coming in?"
Clairebare says, "Now what kind of hostess would I be if I didn't serve my guests first?"
She opens the door, pushes him in, closes it and leans with her back against it.
She smiles.