5-3-10
Frank Barron reporting, your midnight tour guide, your personal gadfly, your late night scribe. It's 10:42 upon my arrival at FB's for the duration of my term. The music is cool. the lights are low, and the Blue Chip City's premier swanky gathering spot and cocktail dance lounge is catering to the blue bloods. For tonight, your best polo shirt is required at the annual Preppy Party, where wealth is welcomed, and greed is good.
As I make my way through the plaid pant crowd gazing at the Sheridan Open leader board, the verbal exchange: "I like your bow tie"..."I like your bow tie", was heard more than once (and let's face it, it's so hard to find a good bow tie nowadays). There are enough sweaters tied around Lacoste shoulders to populate several 80's teen movie villain auditions.
In my double pastel Ralph Lauren ensemble and fox hunting loafers, I separate myself from the other trust fund babies and make my way behind the velvet ropes where I had the good fortune to be seated beside the always delightful Kim Sheridan and her completely adorable friend with immaculate curly hair reminiscent of Felicity, both smartly adorned in their finest private bording school attire.
There are sparklers now at every table as well as cran-apple juice that reminds us all of our days at Oxford. The playlist is quality, but let's be honest, dancing was always for the middle-class, and dancing in public is for the poor.
As Caddy Shack fades into Wall Street I'm wondering how many of tonight's Ivy League idealist will be swept away in the next wave of corporate corruption. Nevertheless, if your looking to stumble upon some bitchin' stock tips, you've picked the right watering hole. Speaking of stumbling, the homeless man dancing to the juke box tunes is a treat that even the most privileged amongst us can savor, and since his drinks were on the house, it's a win/win situation for us all.
The best dressed attendees realize how important it is to accessorize, just ask our host who's head to toe in tailored blue and white seersucker or the popular tennis tour professional, Francis Ballsworth, who stole the show with an outfit worthy of a Wimbledon Final, complete with "Head" brand racket and racket cover sponsorship. "May the fortunes smile upon you in Roland Garous this summer, Francis!"
Alas my evening must come to a conclusion, I have an early tee time at the country club in the morning, and my driver gets all persnickety when I'm late. As for the preppy crowd, ask any of your more fortunate friends and they'll tell you, "Greed is good?" Possibly... But remember, you don't have to be wealthy to be rich, and if you're lucky enough to be both, and I hope you chose to dress the part.
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