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| Looking south along West End Avenue. Sunday, 4 PM. Photo: Jeff Hirsch. |
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| Monday, December 30, 2013. Cold and raining hard in New York from late Sunday morning until the time of this writing (mid- evening). It was a snowless Christmas here, as everybody knows. It was probably a good thing for a lot of people who needed to get around. This writer took it easy. Vegging you could call it, except I don’t turn on the TV. Instead I do errands, straighten up the place, brush the dogs, do the laundry, water the plants now indoors for the duration, read the papers (mainly the online versions) and the latest book. And, a lot of nothing. It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and I find myself just sitting there not thinking of anything other than the fact that I’m just sitting there. Or just looking out the window and watching (what little of) the world going by. These last few days I’ve been in bed by midnight, and once even before (which is almost like a first for me). My mother used to say (when I was a kid and whining about having to go to bed) that “every hour before midnight” is the best for a growing boy. |
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| I can’t remember at the moment, but I might have written this before about sleep. At a dinner one night a few months ago, the conversation came up about sleep. Martha Stewart asked me how much sleep I got. I said, “not much, maybe six hours.” She said something like: “that’s a lot,” (I didn’t think so), sounding like I was pampering myself. I asked her how much sleep she got. “Four to five hours.” I can believe it considering how much she does in a day but she always looks very rested. Maybe it’s the makeup? I dunno. Meanwhile, Barbara Walters was in on this conversation. She got very little sleep too. For me not for her. Meanwhile my friend Alice Mason who celebrated her 90th this year, hits the hay about 6:30 – 7 and sleeps for almost twelve hours. She says she loves it; and Alice ran as long and as hard as both those aforementioned girls, and Alice is looking great. It made me think of my mother and her frequent aphorism. |
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| This was such a quiet weekend that I didn’t go to dinner at all until last night when I dined with JH and his wife Danielle and Danielle’s mother Kathleen. Christmas Eve was the last of the busy nights. I started out at the annual Christmas Eve party given by Gay and Nan Talese (and co-hosted by their daughters, Pamela and Catherine). This is a big party – at least a hundred guests pass through. There are lots of hors d’oeuvres and a big buffet. The guestlist is made up of all kinds including many writers (since Gay Talese is a long time bestselling author and Nan is an editor with her own imprint at Random House. I was there for only about a half hour as I had to go on to another dinner but despite my conversations with a couple of old friends I hadn’t seen in a while, I did see Judy Collins and Louis Nelson, Tony Danza, Jill Krementz, Bartle Bull and David Margolick. I was in and out early. I’m sure within the first hour there were more than a hundred congregating and steeped in conversation (and gnoshing), and I don’t doubt many stayed for hours. The Mayor made an appearance in the second hour. |
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| I went over to John and Susan Gutfreund’s for their Christmas Eve dinner. Susan is one of the consummate hostesses in New York. And what do I mean by that? All of her guests feel comfortable and familiar immediately. Furthermore the entire mise-en-scene is pure luxury including the relaxing vibe. And the Gutfreund apartment is one of the most spectacular (while also being sink-in-comfy— see NYSD HOUSE) in New York with a wonderful view of the southern end of Central Park. There were sixteen or twenty at two tables, starting with a cold borscht with crème fraiche. The Gutfreunds have a weekend house outside Philadelphia in Villanova. There is a local Amish Farmer’s Market nearby where Susan stocks up on their extraordinary quality of produce and poultry. After dinner and dessert, guests moved next door to the Winter Garden Room, a gift to his wife by Mr. Gutfreund and designed by the legendary Henri Samuel. |
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| It was about quarter to eleven when I was the first to excuse myself. Susan led me to the coat room so that I would be sure to take a favor she’d had prepared for her guests. A “ball” of evergreen with Christmas bulbs, a ribbon and some mistletoe. Perfect for the chandelier in your foyer. However, I have neither. “Where will I hang this?” I asked my hostess innocently. “Hang it from your bathroom shower if you haven’t anyplace else,” she said sensibly. And so I did. I rather like it – a little Yuletide spirit in bathroom. Cheers up the place. It’s been that kind of long holiday weekend; lovely and never-too-long. |
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