Le Soiree

A funny thing happened on the way to late 20’s land. Cocktail parties, events & schmoozing became less enticing than Saturday nights at home with a glass of three buck Chuck (white wine) and a British sitcoms on PBS. Don’t get me wrong, I love socializing and being around people. However, I appreciate cozy evenings at home.

In my younger years, I was less jaded and more in awe of a good party. Back in my broke days, I strategized cleaver plans on how to get free booze, a nice appetizer and a little show. So, I hit the galleries of Chelsea & Soho. There was always fine wines, delicious little crackers with a special topping & plenty of good people watching. Not only, did the galleries offer wonderful free wine, but sumptuous art. The galleries kept me cultured and running on Chardonnay.

I’ve also snuck into a party or two. In Downtown Manhattan, I had a friend who worked as a doorman for a fancy hotel. He told me about a simply smashing party. Like any good friend, he snuck me to the elevator. I pushed the P button for penthouse. I felt like the gay male Eloise running around this swanky hotel.

When the elevator door open it revealed a quintessential New York scene. Men and women dressed in all black, chatting, jazz music playing and martinis flowing freely from the shakers to their perspective glasses. It was truly elegant. Of course, I was the only one in jeans, since I was preparing for a night out on the town and a slice afterwards. Still, I just enjoyed the atmosphere.

Although, I’ve never thrown fancy parties, mine were still quite memorable. My favorite parties always revolved around cultural traditions. One year, my roommate Morgan and I celebrated Chanukah at our apartment. Growing up Catholic, it was something I always wanted to experience. Her friend cooked all the traditional Chanukah fare and we hosted a bunch of theatre majors and arty types from Tel-Aviv.

After lighting the menorah, devouring the potato latkes, blintzes and cheesecake, our neighbor Doug did a fire dance. We gathered on the stoop and stared in amazement. Like any good party at my apartment, it turned from a silent movie to a flamboyant talkie in a New York minute.

The secret to throwing a proper party is simple. Even if you serve mini pigs in a blanket from Costco with a tooth pick, the vibe is happy when the company is wonderful. I’ve gone to snobby people parties, where everyone had their nose up in the air. Even though, if it was a lovely venue. I soon ditched the party and spent my night at the diner, drinking coffee and inhaling a banana cream pie.

How do you know if you’ve thrown a most delightful party? When you wake up the next day & laugh about the good times had, it’s always a sign of a successful soiree. I will take warm potato latkes over pigs in a blanket any day.

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