Compost Studios

I got an e-mail linking me to the Neiman Marcus holiday catalog online and with the click of a mouse, I’m one of the Beautiful People. I’m rubbing shoulders with perfectly coiffed blondes and chiseled-chin men, and we’re all at a fabulous party in a place where everything speaks of wealth and elegance.

I see myself in the 18-karat white-gold diamond circle necklace with matching earrings, the black Vera Wang dress with the hand-beaded hem, the Manolo Blahnik sandals that cost more than a month of groceries, and that Tory Burch velvet clutch bag that is a “bargain” at only $378. A bargain, that is, compared to the horrific Fendi fox-fur bag that is ugly, tacky, and a crime against nature. It costs a whopping $2,100.

This a world where the food is fine and the wine is better. The laughter bubbles merrily and everyone is smart and somewhat famous. The 3-inch heels never hurt your feet, your date never acts like a jerk, your stomach never pooches out and ruins the line of your dress. You have just the right amount of cleavage to channel sexy but tasteful. Your arms and shoulders are defined and tanned, even though it’s the dead of winter. The dark lipstick you’re wearing makes you look like a model, not a vampire. Your hair is not frizzy, your roots are not showing, and your face glows with happiness, not oily shine. It’s the first of many parties and you don’t think of the kids for a moment because they’re home with the nanny. Life is good.

Ah, there’s the good life, and then there’s the real life, where I doubt I’ll be invited to any holiday parties, let alone any that require evening attire. There is no slinky dress, sequined clutch, strappy sandals, or diamond jewelry in my short-term forecast. No sleek and sinewy body, no perfectly styled hair, no dark lipstick, no bright white teeth. No people sipping champagne and gazing into a starry night as the moon rises over the water. No enormous chandeliers, marble floors, or gilded mirrors. No endless sparkling conversation.

And that’s OK. Give me a fire and Irish coffee. The company of friends. A Christmas tree with ornaments made by the kids. A plate of dark chocolate truffles. Laughter that makes my mascara run and my stomach hurt. Big hugs at the door coming and going. And a starry, starry night to remind me of the blessings that sparkle in my corner of the world.

November 16, 2005