January 19, 1997 (#16) (and before ...)

I DENY EVERYTHING! This is the second time I have had to cut a vacation short because of that insipid magazine. The first was in July, when they just "had" to have a photo shoot of me for a full-page 4 color layout. Well, I can't even begin to tell you the trauma of assembling my entourage on a moments notice in high summer. It's a wonder I looked as good as I did, a testament to my miracle-workers.

Well, the issue date was for October, which obviously was not published, I suppose I was misplaced. Consequently, the world shall be deprived of my shimmeringness. Don't applaud.

Now, I have been relegated to "netsurf". Sweeties, the last time I went surfing, I recall that it involved the ocean and blonde hair and a well-deserved set of muscles. Somehow, I don't think we are talking about the same thing.

So, I am enjoying a lovely private inside-the-beltway party in DC when someone breaks from their polictical commentary to tell me that they've seen the article.

Well, wasn't I surprised, but maintained my demeanour, "Oh really, which one?". Well dearies, I bolted to the newstands all glimmering with anticipation only to be reduced to tears! Actually, it's not quite that bad and really, kisses go to Snarly who wrote it. Did you get paid yet?

However, I snapped out of it as I realized millions upon millions of new humans, searching for a minutiae of sincerity in their lives, will descend upon my musings and I hadn't a thing to wear, as it were.

Also I had just discovered that my gown for the low-level functionary inaugural ball I was to attend, was somewhat misshapen having been rather viciously packed by Abattoir sans tissue prior to my departure. And, given the likelihood that Mr. Clinton was not going to be making an appearance at that particular soirée and given that I haven't been able to organize my thoughts since the end of November, or October as it were, I rushed home to prepare myself.

Well, here I be.

Quick update on the end of 1996 through present.

• Bob Mackie Spring Collection 1997. I was there along with Carol Burnett, Bernadette Peters and lovely hubby, Lypsyncha (incognito), Bea Arthur and "Jessica". However, I maintained myself in the presence of all that beading was told by all that no one could see me shaking.

• Whisked to Provincetown just after that for Thanksgiving. Cold. Desolate. Beaujolais Nouveau, and yes I know that it is so pretentious, but I am imagining that I can balance that against my sincerity and still maintain respectability throughout the holidays.

• Christmas in Los Angeles. Warm. Relatives and friends.

• New Year's in Manhattan. Friends, friends of friends. I swear I didn't drink a drop of champagne, only bourbon. It just makes me feel so southern.

• Opening night, Liza Minelli in Victor Victoria. An incomparable experience that I won't even begin to describe for fear of alienating so many. Mr. Jewel will fill in for me on this one soon enough. Besides, I know for a fact that he was lucky enough to see Julie Andrews and Liza Minelli. I almost chatted with Liza at the party afterward, except for the 5000 people mobbing her. Luckily it was sponsosred by Veuve Cliquot and I was able to make up for my New Year's Eve folly. I also met a wonderfully tan dancer from the show who's charm ended soon thereafter.

• Inaugural Gala, -- well almost.

Have I left anything out? Well, if so, I'm sure it will all return to me in a terrifying flashback when I least expect it. I have been prone to having "moments" of late. Which, if they weren't dredging up such uncomfortable memories, might be somewhat like watching television at the airport on one of those tiny little waiting room personal screens.

I suppose 1997 should bring scads of resolutions, but I'm seem to have misplaced mine except for one. I swore to only wear brown boiled wool tailored suits this winter with matching suede pumps. Not very likely.

Well, trot on out and borrow a copy of THAT MAGAZINE from someone who had to subscribe for work and flip to page 183 and be brave for me. Perhaps someday, someone will just let me rest in peace.

Write to Lancelot, Mr. Jewel and Verlene and tell them that they had better get busy and earn their keep. Well, actually I only have the ability to make Lancelot's life a living hell. Verlene is beyond my grasp and well, she intimidates me because I am aware of her "personal life." Then, Mr. Jewel, well how can you hurt someone who already has already sat through Victor Victoria twice.

But she is very sincere and I do so want her friends to like me. They speak French you know.

Well, again, sorry for all the delays and what not. I was going to make some silly resolution about that, but I just hate disappointing myself, it causes wrinkles and that just won't do.

May the spolight of 1997 always be trained on your sequins,
Trudy

P.S. Those of you who correspond with my girls from time to time, please treat them nicely if only for the next few weeks. Between myself and some of their associates, they need to be reminded of their self-worth.

P.P.S. Oh, yes. If you have a few hours, try and visit my touched friend, Edwina, actually I met her through some lowest common denominator. She has started some thing and has been hitting me up for a mention. Be polite, please. Our mutual friend is somewhat powerful and I am plotting an overthrow.