Collectively they have much power over many a philanthropic organization within the boundaries of the Garden & beyond. They are avid & aggressive supporters of many a festival, be it music, film, fashion and more, but like most of their kind, they will exert full control over programming. Nothing must ever be too risqué, too controversial, too, havens forbid, unique! I know what you are thinking, that you can quickly dismiss the lot of them & cast them into the fires of boredom & bleakness.. BUT not so quick dahhling… for I remind you, what would the Garden be without variety? And under the surface all is not what it seems, as is the case with most that identify themselves as über anything, as you might think. After all not long ago, it was brought to my attention over an Afternoon Cocktail, that doctors in the area where having a massive epidemic of, well there is no genteel way to say this: the old crotch rot! And not one kind in particular..but every type you dare imagine. What was most shocking was that the group causing all the raucous was not the expected one. Not the wild lady boys, not the out of control younger set, not the married gays, but none other than the über conservative retired ever so private islander dweller! How can this be you ask? Simple dahhling, no one taught them that retirement, old age and the veneer of über conservatism is in any way a protective measure against decease when indulging in spouse swapping and bed hoping in between golf rounds! But now you know!
One of my very own encounters with this group came a few years back at a FAB summer cocktail party at the beautifully appointed house (dahhhling you remember Interiors of all three floors done by me of course!) of the magnificent Marquesa de Wolfe. Among the guest, soon I came across a well coiffed & well dressed lady. The first questions she had for me was the expected one all boohring people will ask you: “What do you do for a living?” “For a living?” I repeated incredulously, “Well dahhhling LIVE!, that’s what I do!” I replied. She seemed perplexed of course. A few more pleasantries followed, before she arrived at the other most asked question in the Garden: “Where are you from?” I informed the unimaginative lady, that I was from the Land of the Aztecs, but before I could get to the portion of my statement in which it involved my descend upon the Garden, she interrupted me to correct my previous statement by saying: “No your are not! You can’t be from there!” much to my amusement. I assured her, that although I did not know many things, I knew with certainty where I came from. She insisted: “Absolutely not! You don’t sound or look Mexican” she said with exasperation, as though the mere idea was too much. I was simply too regal & not with a platter in my hand serving or cleaning something, it was simply an impossibility in her eyes. How dehhvine is this I ask you? I could have adopted her as my new favorite project then & there until she shared with me that she resided in the Land of the golf carts. Much to my disappointment, because though she could forgive my brown origins, I could never chance catching something of the third kind from her by shaking her hand! After all I am a Duchess dahhing, and that simply won’t do.
HRHThe Duchess of State