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New Year’s 2007 – The Uggliest Shoes and the Itchiest Top


As Diesel mentioned, we had no intention of celebrating New Year’s going through a long security line and being corralled with four million plus strangers in Times Square for several hours with little room to move and no possibility to go to the bathroom (those who know me know that my bladder has a mind of its own).

Instead, we made our way to Brighton Beach, where DB and his wife Misha were throwing an intimate New Year’s Eve party. But wait, there were “rules” to this party, as you can see from the following Evite excerpt:

The rules are as follows:
1. Dresscode: neck wear for boys and no jeans allowed.
2. You must bring a gift for exchange ($10 to $20 bucks).
3. You must wear slippers (high heeled slippers are ok).
4. If you bring alcohol it must be a chocolate liqueur.
5. Sleepover is optional (blankets, pillows, and socks will be provided)

With such specific instructions, what was a good guest to do but to comply?

Before I continue, I must preface the core of this story by explaining two things: 1) The amount of walking in this city has forced me to always go out wearing my Puma walking shoes, which upon arrival are promptly replaced by whatever too tight, too tall or too small cute shoes I bring for the occasion, 2) Earlier that day I had bought one of those very in sequin tops but never bothered trying it on due to time constraints.

Anyhow, as soon as I put the new top on, I realized that it made me all itchy. I figured it was a price I had to pay…at least for that night. Diesel and I packed our overnight items, including the slippers, put our walking shoes on and made the 45-60 trip to Brighton Beach.

When we arrived, several of the guests were already munching and mingling. Apparently , all guests had followed the dress code impeccably, looking spiffy and glamorous, but all of them had completely ignored the “slippers” part. GREAT. Now I was all itchy AND self-conscious about being the only one wearing ugly shoes. I mean, I was one of the only two people wearing ugly shoes, and it didn’t help that the other fashion perpetrator was my own husband. This wouldn’t have been so bad if the party hadn’t included at least two people who worked at Prada and several other people who obviously were very much into fashion.

But all that was forgotten once the food started rolling–and there was plenty of delicious dishes!–and the vodka toasts started coming. We were, after all, in Brighton Beach, aka Little Russia by the Sea. When in Little Russia, do as the Russians do, right?

DB and Misha had an eclectic group of friends, and Diesel and I talked to almost all of them. At midnight, we all held our glasses high in what would be the first toast of the year, and one of the many more toasts of that night. The drinking and mingling continued. Pretty soon it was 1:30, and as expected, Diesel fell into the abyss of drunkenness. He was the first one to pass out, but that seemed alright with everybody, as they decided to play a few rounds of Twister. One by one people started passing out, and DB and Misha’s living room turned into a big sleepover.

Strangely enough, we were the first ones of all guests to wake up at 10am on January 1. Whispering and tiptoeing to the bathroom, Diesel and I waited for the others to get up. We thought we’d wait for everybody to get over their hangovers and go as a caravan to get brunch. An hour passed and nothing. We sat there looking at each other before summoning the courage to leave without saying good-bye to anybody (but what were we gonna do? Wake up everybody?).

By the time we got home it was past noon. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that there is a McDonald’s one block from where we live. It has been a great source of temptation, and at least a couple of times I got as close as the front door, but so far had been disciplined enough to resist. Not that day. Not with an accomplice like Diesel. The two of us walked straight into McDonald’s and got ourselves burgers and fries. It tasted damn good as expected. Also as expected, it made us feel incredibly sick afterwards.


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