Vivienne finds herself at a fancy event in evening attire. Of course, such things do happen elsewhere in the world, but only in NYC can they happen at the Pierre.
Vivienne has a strange sensation of not being real. She feels like a character in a novel, maybe, or a song.
(Or a blog.)
Manhattan women are dressed in silk and satin
Or so the fellas say
Diamonds, daisies, snowflakes
If you get caught between the moon and New York City
Best that you can do
Best that you can do
Is fall in love
I like large parties. They’re so intimate.
Caught up in the in-crowd
Now you’re in-style
What a swellegant, elegant party
This is!
The Pierre opened in 1930, and the grand occasion was marked with a gala dinner prepared by Escoffier. It seems safe to say that no one at the time envisioned stitch faces dining there, particularly not Escoffier. Well, scoff at your A! thinks Vivienne, daintily dabbling her paw in her Veuve Clicquot.
Vivienne is from a scrappy background, made from material found by my mother at her local swap table, which my friend Bernice identified for me as a batik. Her sheath is made from the lining of one of my husband’s old suits, trimmed with sequined fabric also from my mom’s swap table and draped with apricot gauze leftover from butterfly wings I made as party favors for a long-ago birthday. Her kitten heels are made from scraps from a Halloween wizard costume, and her bracelet is an earring. Her earrings, like her personality, are magnetic.
History
Is happening in
Manhattan
And we
Just happen to be
In the greatest city in the world!
—Lin-Manuel Miranda
PS Congratulations, Vanessa! Now you can make it anywhere.
Vivienne looks like a relaxed member of both the in-crowd and the best dressed list.
She chose to forego the pearls, as you can see.
I was a little surprised by her lack of pearls but assumed it’s because she’s hip.