A Party I Didn't Give, Darn It

BUT THERE'S STILL TIME!!!

You may have been puzzled by my references to the Katastroma Club.  This was a private club created by Alex Londres and me in an idle moment.  I think we had searched for people to play games with on a Sunday afternoon and turned up no one.  

Power loves a vacuum, so Alex and I anointed ourselves the founders and heads in perpetua of our new club, the Katastroma Club.  Katastroma means deck chair in Greek which seemed like exactly the tone we were trying to set - relaxed, sophisticated, and mysterious.  We immediately wrote up the simple rules for membership:

1. Drinking and Smoking de rigueur.

2. Formal Attire Only

3. You Could Get Out of Smoking or Drinking by Paying Tribute to the Heads of the Club,     but      ALWAYS     Formal Attire Required

$$$$$$$ TRIBUTE $$$$$$$

BIRTH OF THE KATASTROMA CLUB

I bring this up because it was a Katastroma meeting that became the inspiration for my favorite Party I Never Gave.

One of our club meetings was held in the studio of a public access television station.  We arrived in formal attire (10 members), felt too sober so went across the street to the divey Irish bar, had a snort or two, as my Virginian Pa would have said, then went back across the street to tape our club meeting.  We brought some new members back with us from the bar, everything about them escapes me except that they were cute.  We also had with us a bucket, a bottle of cocktail onions, bottles of gin and vodka, plastic cups, ice, a cocktail shaker, and elegant cocktail napkins.

We borrowed a metal folding chair from the studio and that became the table for our demo of the Katastroma Martini (given to us by Juan Mateus at the Algonquin Bar).  Possibly 10 fumble fisted minutes of drink mixing and explanation ensued, we drank enthusiastically, then someone put on music and we danced and drank for the rest of the half hour.  I have no idea if anyone saw it, someone still has a copy of the tape and I await the blackmail note.  It was silly and really fun and not expensive.

So, my child's version of this, age 11 or 12, would be to rent the studio and have two events, a pre-taping story crafting meeting, then the story enacted on TV, the revelry, cake and candles also broadcast.  I think you'd have to limit the writing team to 6 or no story would evolve.  Besides birthday food you'd have to bring really crazy costumes for inspiration, and I'd invite the parents who were hambones to participate.  I don't think you should have too many rules or too many expectations, but do have too many glasses of spiked lemonade.

If I were to call a meeting of the Katastroma Club now I would serve my martinis in 

Pimp Cups.

OBVIOUSLY

KATASTROMA MARTINI

Put ice into a shaker

Pour lots of vermouth onto the ice

Throw away the vermouth, keep the ice

Put 1 jigger Gin, 1 jigger Vodka on ice in shaker

Stir

Strain into cold martini glass, add olive and onion

An icy cloud of mystery spirits

Be ready for very bad behavior


                                                                                                                                                             

1001 Arabian Ideas

This party idea didn't start, as you might believe, with a trip to see Princess Jasmine.  She had yet to be created.  I had many middle eastern friends, and very happy memories of fooling around in a Parisian atelier with a very handsome Greek boyfriend, listening to Warda and Fairuz.  That may have given me confidence in my ability to interpret an entire culture in a two hour time slot, but that wasn't the reason.

The trigger for my #1 favorite party was listening to a friend describe the shock on the face of her 7 year old son when a belly dancer shimmied in front of him.  That image had been percolating in my brain for a while.  Pinky's first birthday after changing schools again (she transferred from Greenwich Academy to Convent of the Sacred Heart) needed to be a memorable one.  I had to invite the entire new class, old class, and old friends from Chapin, riding, and anything else.  The purpose was to reassure the old friends that they weren't forgotten, and show the new ones that we didn't live that far away (we did) to be included in playdates, and reassure the new mothers that I was one of them (I wasn't).  You already know from the foreshadowing that I hired a belly dancer.  But in my typical way, I lost my mind creating the atmosphere to make this act logical.

First, I found a great dancer (she was a kindergarten teacher in real life); she had a wonderful warm personality and while still in a caftan helped with the games and food management.  This paid off when she revealed herself to the children as a dervish of exotic dance and allure.  They only lost it times 100 - it could have been 1001.

I made a sensible plan to have low middle eastern tray tables, carpets and pillows on the floor, and food that only needed fingers: crudités, chicken nuggets, stuffed grape leaves, chips and juice boxes.  

Then I pondered the cake.  I must have been thinking like a pharaoh, a very big plan.  I decided to make an interpretation of middle eastern architecture, and considering my ambition vs. my equipment and skill, I did a pretty great job.  I ended up with a very large simulation of the Blue Mosque, sort of.  I made the main building by cooking the cake in a medium stainless steel bowl, then inverting it on top of a square cake chunk to create a dome shaped building.  Iced simply. It was good.  I then took it over the top by creating four Very Tall minarets from rickety stacks of oreos stuck together with icing, capped by pointy mallomars.  They were highly successful visually until you moved them.  I used tall skinny candles, and it took three of us to get the cake to the birthday girl without incident.  Fortunately it was devoured instantly leaving no time for negative commentary.  This creation only took me an entire day.

Necessity, The Mother of Invention

The morning of the party the scene was already set with the tables, etc. but somehow it didn't seem enough (are you surprised?)  We got out the ladder and I suspended colored votives from the chandelier.  Still needed more.  I rummaged around and found a 20 ft long piece of crimson scarf cotton.  It looked fabulous pulled across the walls, dropping the ceiling and adding a rosy glow.  To me, it still looked like Connecticut.  Here comes the genius idea.  I would use white tempera paint and create a lattice pattern into the French doors using a moorish design.  There were eight of these windows.  And I painted those suckers until the first car came down the drive.  Hours of labor.  Not a single person noticed.  I am certain that the experience had more romantic impact because of this, but I live in a Fool's Paradise.

Note Votives

You Can Just Make Out the Moorish Design in the Windows

Eventually I was satisfied.

BEARab Greeter

Princess Adelaide

The party guests were wonderfully costumed, though some left me scratching my head.  As always I took a portrait photo as they arrived, and then we began.  This time no pass the parcel.  First we played the game where you show an object they couldn't recognize and ask them to write down what they think it is.  Lemon zesters, melon ballers, old timey egg beaters, for example.  

Then we brought out a tray of 10 things and asked them to memorize them, then covered it up and saw who had guessed the most, adding another object each round.  Prizes were handed out and suddenly Egyptian music issued from the library around the corner where the dancer had de-caftaned and waited for her cue.  

 

As the music crescendoed she shot from her hiding place all spangles and hair and scarves.  She was beautiful, and her dancing was so unexpected that rather than fainting, the children broke into hysterical laughter.  After her amazing performance she taught all of us a version of a Bedouin dance, and, as you can see, they loved it.

The party broke up when one of the mothers arrived with a cute older brother in tow.  All the girls ran screaming into the library, afraid that they would be mocked for their dancing.  Little did they know what a valuable skill this could be in their adult lives.

Grandmother and Aunt Elizabeth

Ever Game Aunt Elizabeth and Pinky

*

Party Pinkly or Momfire of the Vanities

 

ICE CREAM

 It was inevitable that for one party we would have to make the theme Dress In Pink.  That idea didn't lead me anywhere but to chaos.  Therefore, as usual, I over-estimated the time a nine year old would spend gluing cheap toys on a straw hat.  I also wasn't perturbed that they were using hot glue guns, and didn't reflect on the consequences of lighting the candles on a rustic 18th century candelabra after I festooned it with Mexican paper garlands ( I LOVE paper party products from Mexico and China ).

MORE ICE CREAM TREATS

I had another pink wedding cake made because it's so surprising, especially for the bakers still scratching their heads.  I had also found a small artisan ice cream company http://www.stclairicecream.com  who made pretty pastel fruits out of delicious sorbets. It was a very attractive table presentation with baskets of mini roses, the inevitable pink lemonade, and pink champagne for the grown ups who lingered.  I put the party favors into a cheerful Easter basket at each place setting and I think Easter is how I justified the hat making.*

Pinky was extremely happy because she got to wear her American Doll Colonial Williamsburg dress and apron, and I think the mothers were relieved that they didn't have to find an exotic costume; I made up for that the next year.

We started the party with painter's tables laid with the glue guns, a treasure chest of super cheap objects from Oriental Trading, and a stack of multicolored Hawaiian style straw hats.  In my mind's eye that should have taken at least half an hour (I'd wised up some) but it was more like fifteen minutes.  There had to be a parade that lasted ten extra minutes and culminated with the winner getting a fabulous prize, probably a Barbie.  The winner was chosen by Pinky's ever game grandmother who, to honor the theme came dressed in her pink robe and nightgown, and fluffy pink slippers.  

SHARKS CIRCLE

 

PARADE STARTS

I took pictures of each child in her hat to be used for the thank you postcard, then we played a game that I had learned about from one of Pinky's cousins but never actually seen.  Right there was the danger zone of chaos.
  
 

DERANGED PARTY GAME LASTS INFINITY

Here's the game: there are two teams, the team that finishes eating a giant chocolate bar first, in relay fashion, wins.  The catch is that for each turn the party player must first dress in a man's suit, shirt, tie and overcoat, then put on a pair of oven mitts and cut a single piece off the large chocolate bar with a fork and knife.  Insanity.  If I had known how long it would take the paraders to dress, cut chocolate, undress, I could have skipped the ominously endless parade around Pinky's grandparents (like circling sharks with no destination).

 

NOT ANOTHER GAME IDEA BUT TRYING TO STAND UP WITHOUT USING ARMS AND HANDS - YOU TRY IT

After the 10,000 hour long party game, I skipped the other idea (lost in the mists of time) and marched everyone upstairs for cake in the dining room.  It was very pretty; pink cake, polka dot napkins, golden afternoon light overlooking the waterfall, and zany paper garlands on the, as yet, unlit candelabra.  Once all were seated I brought the matches to the candles and the entire candle stand went up in flames; it might have actually made the sound whoosh.  This is a moment when it's not good to be an artistic personality.  I paused to watch how unusually pretty it was before I shot into emergency mode.  

NELL TAYLOR, HERO

Thank heaven for Nell Taylor!  Without hesitation she picked up the full pitcher of pink lemonade and threw it onto the table, immediately dowsing the bonfire, and adding a soggy sweetness to the cake.  Nell will go far in life as she is calm and resourceful in the face of parental idiocy.

Thanks To Nell, This Did Not Happen

What had started as a bit of a weak theme had burst into an unforgettable party for everyone attending, there is nothing like flare to liven things up.


 

JESS

AMANDA

ADELAIDE

GAME EXPLANATION COURTESY OF ACTIVITY VILLAGE, an excellent site

Age: 6+
You will need:
A wrapped bar of chocolate A plate A knife and fork Some dressing-up items (at least a hat, scarf and gloves) Two dice
How to play:
Put the bar of chocolate on the plate with the knives and forks nearby and sit the children around it in a circle. Throw the pile of dressing up clothes into the circle. Give one child the dice.
Children take it in turns to roll the dice on the floor in front of them, passing them around the circle to their left. If a child rolls a double, they leap into the center of the circle, put on the dressing up clothes, and start to unwrap, then eat, the bar of chocolate - but only using the knife and fork. That child keeps going until another child rolls a double, at which point they much co-operate in handing over the dressing up clothes so that the next child gets a turn.
Hints:
This game can get very rowdy as doubles sometimes come thick and fast! Be prepared the change the rules if nobody is getting a chance to eat any chocolate, perhaps using only double 3, double 4, and double 5.
If you have a particularly large group of children, you might be better off having two sets of dice going round the circle (starting opposite each other) at the same time. If you do, you might want to limit "winning" doubles to double 5 and double 6.
Have a spare bar of chocolate or two on hand in case you have some proficient party-goers! You might also want to swap forks every so often for hygiene reasons.
When I was young we played a variation of this game. Instead of eating chocolate with a knife and fork, we ate peanuts with chopsticks! Perhaps my mother invented this variation when she felt we were too young to handle the knife and fork safely. These days you might be better off using Smartees or M&Ms given that some children suffer from severe nut allergies.

*when I was still single and living in NYC I went to the Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue with my friends Jim and Mary.  Jim's attention was held by the sight of a crazy woman wearing a decorated paper bag as her Easter bonnet.  This lead to an excellent song, the beginning of which is all I remember, but it started out "In your Easter bonnet, with Safeway written on it,....".

Spring Up and Away Games

As the real birthday approaches, March 18, I'm pushed by the current uncertain weather into remembering celebrations in foreign lands.  

Because of the date, Pinky's birthday always fell during the spring break. I'd be organized enough to give a local celebration before or after the break, but the real day was often celebrated far away and in a haphazard fashion.  March in the Northeast might be warm (relatively) and sunny, or cold and raw, but no matter which, there is never a leaf on a tree, and the ground is still frozen.  The green comes later.  It's a particularly gloomy time for a Californian (me).  

 Our plane would lift off in a blizzard or gray gloomy clouds, or the bleached tones of the dim winter sky and then we'd land in the morning and it would be Real Spring in Europe!  As you landed at Heathrow you would see the new green grass and the crocuses, bluebells and daffodils, puffy clouds in a blue sky, still cold, but with the sweet air that has the scent of earth and flowers.  

We'd often go to family to celebrate Easter in the tiny church in Wales.  This would be as picturesque as possible but came with a frisson of anxiety as the family were traditionally in the front pew and never knew when to stand or sit.  One would always be angled to better use peripheral vision to follow the congregation which led to neck ache later. 

One year, at the invitation of Pinky's grandparents, we went to EuroDisney outside of Paris.  My mother-in-law, Pinky and I went by train, hovercraft, and train from London to Paris.  I have never forgotten having to negotiate my suitcase, Pinky's suitcase and frail Margaret's six suitcases without a cart.  My legs did much of the work, kicking suitcases to move them, and I felt like a pack mule. 

Paris was still getting dark early, but all the French people seemed to be thawing with the weather.  Lots of happy smiles which I believe they've been trained to use thanks to Disney Corp.  Quite a turnaround for the French!  Pinky's great friend Isobel Waller-Bridge and her mother came to join us. That was serious fun, the Waller-Bridges know how to party!  After the Buffalo Bill Spectacle outside the entrance we separated from the grandparents so they could excuse themselves early if tired.  Imagine our surprise when, sitting in the bar at the hotel, 10 pm, whining about our over-stimulation and fatigue, the oldsters appeared having just gotten back with energy to spare.  My heroes!   
Isobel is currently generating a lot of attention as the composer of music for the play Orlando just opening at the Royal Exchange Theatre in London.  Her music is beautiful, you can hear it on  https://soundcloud.com/isobel-waller-bridge.

Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, Euro Disney.  All of Us Have Enormous Heads

In Rome it would feel like summer, no coats necessary until dinner time and riotous blossoming of forsythia and tulips and daffodils too. Scented evenings in the Piazza Navona with delicious expresso desert from the adjacent Tré Scalini, and loads of sunshine during the day.

That's my impression.  Pinky's is different.  

The key moments revolved around sinus infections and woolly tights or woolly pants or itchy, scratchy woolly sweaters.  Then there would be dragging to auction houses, museums and other places of enforced cultural uplifting.  While Pinky was feeling itchy, miserable from the headache and stuffiness that only got worse on the plane, I would have wonderful ideas!  

Pigeon Scorn in the Piazza

On one of our trips to Venice we went to the famous opera house La Fenice to see I Puritani.  I loved that it was an obscure opera that featured dour religious excess, and I loved the theater, dark pink velvet and beautiful gilded moldings.  It has burned to the ground more than once, and we were very lucky to have been there before the most recent fire.  I guess if you name a place The Phoenix you're asking for it.  Everyone in the theater had the best seats in the house, all luxurious individual chairs so that they could be moved for a dinner party or a ball or a creative production.  So clever!

The Wonderful Chairs in La Fenice

During the intermission of I Puritani we lurked on the steps outside and I admired a new kind of smoking.  All the chic Italian donas had cigarettes that looked like long toothpicks.  A very fast and efficient nicotine delivery system.

As I sat enthralled, Pinky scratched and sniffled and blew her nose, utterly miserable.  Luckily our hotel made stupendous risotto with wild mushrooms, a very delicious consolation prize. 

They Have a Cooking School!

Also in Venice, in order to prove to Pinky that fish was delicious I was forced prove my enthusiasm to her by choking down a whole baby octopus served on a bed of shaved celery, ew.  Never again.

When you arrive in Venice for the first time, you know the physical beauty will be overwhelming, and because it's Italy, you expect to eat well.  What you don't expect is the feast for your ears!  Vivaldi in every restaurant, opera wafting from open apartment windows, concerts in churches, and no sound of cars.  What a wonderful place.



When we were in Florence we booked a table at Garga, a highly recommended restaurant.  It was decorated with crazy art and miscellaneous random objects - an Italian version of a Texas honky-tonk, but high chic.  We had a stunningly good meal and the exuberant waiters brought Pinky a chocolatey dessert and while singing the unknown Italian birthday song they showered her with rose petals, sigh, so romantic.  

Crazy Good Chocolate Tart at Garga

On via de' Tornabuoni in Florence there was a truffle shop , Procacci, and we loaded up on soft rolls basted with white truffle butter for the train trip back to Paris. 

Besides the delicious rolls, my favorite memory of the train trip is chugging through the night and looking out the window to see what appeared to be a magical grotto filled with fairy lights.  It was actually a cemetery, so beautiful with the hundreds of flickering votive candles.

I have so many reasons to love Italy!  My dream is to stay for six months, take Italian lessons in the morning and cooking lessons from Garga in the afternoon. 

Pinky's dream undoubtedly starts clothed in cotton, claritan in pocket, and no mother. 

AVANTI!

 my favorite Italian dessert

*granita con panna*

Pinky's Arty Birthday Party

Pinkie by Thomas Lawrence

The Arty Party I believe is Pinky's favorite.  

It was several years before we tackled the renovation of Pinky's basement playroom.  A huge stone lined space, it had a built out, cupboarded room made for the intricate fantasies of little girls.  She had a very goofy one that I still don't understand. This requires some input from Pinky.  Pinky and her best friend Nell would put their heads into large boxes and sing operatically.  ?  I think this was a twist on putting on a play.

The basement gave them a place to rehearse their beat boxing rap songs, further torture the Barbies and listen to Ace of Base.  It was a touch dark and creepy outside of the finished room so it showed right away who was likely to be fun.  No sob sisters allowed. 

Wonderfully, we were able to send out hand written invitations with Pinkie*, the famous painting by Thomas Lawrence, as the front of the card.  

I loved this party too.  It was in my wheelhouse, as we say now.  Maybe that's why there were no catastrophes, I actually knew what I was doing.

 I met the guests at the door and handed them painter's hats (donated by the paint company) and gloves, a big brush, and pulled a black garbage bag poncho over their clothing.  After I took their pictures for the thank you note, they headed downstairs - not creepy when there are a lot of you.

NELL                                        PINKY                                          ADDY

They were set free, commanded to paint the walls any way they wanted to, no mistakes could be made.  I set out big buckets of tempera paint in primary colors and watched the exuberant graffiti unfold.

PAINTERS AT WORK

All the colorful paper decorations came from Chinatown, big cloth ones were already there, from India.










After all the painting was finished we sat down to a long picnic table set up in the basement for the occasion.  Pinky and I had made a great birthday cake in blocky abstract form decorated with striped gum, peppermints, pixie stix, candy confetti, and PINK icing of course.  I can be pretty clever with baking aids, I bake in metal bowls for a dome shape, get the square with artful carving, etc.  You don't have to buy a special tool, just be ready for a little lack of perfection which makes the cake way more charming, that's what I tell myself.

CAKE IS BLOB IN FRONT OF PINKY

Finger sandwiches and cake gone, we played pin the ear on van Gogh (I used a poster of his selfie and handcrafted the ears) and charades, also a chalkboard version of pictionary.

EARS ARE NEXT TO MR. GOGH

Because the party was based on destruction/deconstruction I couldn't go wrong.  Amazingly, no one got too paint covered.  The loud and happy voices told me everything. I had made a hit, I got to stand tall in front of my young and intimidating critics. 

You could re-enact this artistic free-for-all by covering the walls of a room with heavy craft paper.  My mother used to bring home the enormous end roll from a newspaper printing plant.  They would switch it to a fresh one before it had entirely run out and these would be thrown away.  From the time I was barely taller than the roll I would go into the closet and cut off big pieces of paper for projects, homework, etc.

When I finally renovated the space the walls were carefully covered in bead board so they could be discovered by an archaeologist some centuries down the line.  

I bet you think I made it a pretty beige and white officey space for my ambitious teen.  In fact, I had the walls painted smoky red, put in leopardskin carpeting, low sofas and ottomans, and Arab brass tray tables, all meant to look like a Moroccan souk ( I may have been remembering some very good times at Regine's).  This may seem nutty, but while living in dimly lighted houses in London I learned that a jewel tone for the walls works better than white; white walls turn grey when in shadow.  Ahead of my time as ever.

* Although Pinkie and Blue Boy are beloved by the world, and I de facto love the painting Pinkie, I can't look at it without being driven crazy by the incorrectly painted akimbo arm. 

Now is the Woodcock Near the Gin.......Twelfth Night

Twelfth Night is my favorite Seasonal Party date.  The holiday madness is over and you and your friends are a little gloomy.  The dance card is empty, friends are back from trips to sunny places; with no effort your party will be a hit.

For some countries, Twelfth Night is called King's Day and children receive presents in the spirit of the gifts of the Magi.  In France they make a delicious Galette des Rois - a large pastry filled with frangipane, a version of almond paste somewhat like marzipan. When it's served the youngest person at the table gets to assign the slices.  There is a féve, or favor, inside and whoever finds it will be king or queen for the rest of the day, wearing the crown that adorns the cake.
                                                                                                                                                                     For my Twelfth Night party I require that everyone must come as a Wise Man, a Wise Woman or a Wise Ass.  Not surprisingly this leads to insane interpretations.  One of my friends had a surfeit of individual potato chip packages made by Wise (they were always on the plate with his hamburger; he would eat fries instead).  He pinned the packets all over his v-neck sweater and qualified as either a Wise Man or a Wise Ass.  Pinky made herself giant blingy earrings with Golda Meir on one and Albert Einstein on the other.  

 

Wise Woman

Wise Man

Another friend dressed as a vintage rapper 

 

Wise Guys

(think Run DMC) in a velour gym ensemble and gold chains.  I think he was being a Wise Ass but he gave me two rap mix tapes called The Hotness and I deemed him a Wise Man.

For this great party theme you get to use left over Christmas cookies, liquor, champagne, very Wise.  And you can make a regifting grab bag with hilarious unwanted seasonal presents.  There are many games based on this idea; tie exchange, Gift musical chairs....this turns into a truly fun party.
And please serve only Wise Potato Chips.

Regifting Ideas

Festivus