Monday, March 17, 2008

velma and bernice...

When Melissa invited me to her friend's dinner party in Napa, I was like, "Oh, okay. Sure. Can we crash there?"
"Yeah! It's in Cynthia's husband's photography studio."
As Mel and I drove up to Rutherford, I was envisioning someone's remodeled garage and a bunch of boring people I wouldn't know sitting on pillows around a Scrabble game. So we decided to make it an adventure and got a hotel room within walking distance of this "studio." Of course, we end up with the most romantic, fabulous, wood-burning fireplace room overlooking a delightful little courtyard.
"Um, we're becoming a lesbian power couple. FYI."
"I know!" Mel squealed, as she threw on a velvet blazer and I wobbled around in my yet-to-be-broken-in Jimmy Choos. "Let's go to the hotel bar and grab a glass of wine before we head over."
The hotel's restaurant, Le Toque claimed to have a wine bar but the room had been set up for a private party. With great fanfare, we were informed that the party wouldn't start until 7 and were instantly brought stools, chilled water and a wine list.
We felt so bad, putting the poor staff on the spot and screwing up their perfect private room. We opened the wine list and since Ms. Griffin doesn't like to stain her teeth, selected the cheapest little half-bottle of Rose. It was the only one on the menu and we felt like assholes. Not assholes enough to order something costing more than $16, but assholes enough to apologive profusely while mocking our tackyness.
We grabbed our hostess gifts (olive oil and tapenade) and headed across the street to some gravely parking lot. Where the hell are we going, Griffin! Approaching a huge, intricate metal door, Mel rang the bell. Oh dear god, what have I gotten myself into? I won't know a soul, I'll say something stupid, I'm going to trip in my heels.
I heard the pitter patter of feet running down a hallway. "HELLO!!!!"
Our hosts, Cynthia and Dan are those kind of people that instantly make you feel relaxed and welcome and interesting. I love those kind of people. It also helped that Cynthia is a blog reader, so I guess she knew what she was getting herself into. We walk down this gorgeous, echoing hallway into the "studio."
The "studio" is about the size of a Pottery Barn, and set up in the middle was a gorgeous table set for 17. Um, there ain't no Scrabble at Cynthia and Dan's. Right away we're handed wine and introduced to another couple.
Oh god, I called us a couple.
It was Sam Singer and his wife.
OMG! Sam, defender of Tatiana the Tiger! Fabulous! Shit, have I ever said anything bad about him?
It just kinda went on like that, interesting people showing up and bottomless glasses of wine. I wish I had some scandelous anecdotes about strip charades or Gavin showing up drunk, but it was a really fun, loud, 4-course, 5 hour masterpiece and I kept waiting for someone to ask me what the hell I was doing there.
After everyone left, Mel and I, knowing our place, stayed to help clean up which prompted Dan to open this amazing dessert wine and give me a quick, drunken lesson on constellations. We stumbled back to our hotel room and sat by the fire, planning our trip back to the filthy, dirty, ghetto ass San Francisco. In the morning, we rolled out of bed and back to the studio, to stack a couple of chairs, purloin some spinster leftovers and reap the benefits of Dan's new espresso machine and love of yogurt, granola and fruit.
Shit, Napa. I fucking love you.
One would think, given "our" penchant for alcohol, we'd spend the ride back winetasting. Nope. We passed an outlet mall on our way up there and sure as shit, they had a Barneys.
Barneys had these big chalkboards up over certain racks of clothing, with really complex marketing campaigns written on them. We found this both hilarious and worthy of stocking up. I got $35 leggings. Down from $80. Who the hell buys $80 leggings? People that shop at regular Barneys, I guess. I also got some snazzy loafers and a BCBG dress which I've decided is very fashion forward. Melissa bought everything. Like, literally, everything.
4 hours later, and it was time for lunch before the long ride back.
"Where was the cute looking place we saw on the way up?"
"I forget. Where?"
"THERE! THAT! OMG! IT'S THE CARNEROS INN! IT'S GAVIN'S! WE'RE STOPPING!"
The Carneros Inn looks like exactly what Marina people want Napa to look like. It's like Epcot's Napa for rich people. And I was all over it.
We dined at the Boon Fly Cafe, which is exactly like it's supposed to look. It was actually the perfect place to stop, but I couldn't help myself from looking around constantly trying to find a fabulous flaw to disect. Eh, it's basically impossible to drive around the whole compound. I was desperate to see Swiss Miss ordering around bellmen like the pre-nup had already been signed, but t'was not to be. We did however see the striped canvas from the cabanas flapping in the wind.
Cabanas in Napa? Really? Oh Gavin, you're so over the top. I love it (you.)
My lesbian girlfriend and I have decided we want a weekend place in Napa, so we can become wine experts and throw things at idiot tourists. Everything in wine country looks so goddamn perfect, I can barely stand it. I have a feeling we might be the catalyst for the downfall, stumbling through the vinyards in $80 leggings and making passes at migrant workers.
We made it back to shitty civilization just in time for another, equally fabulous dinner party. Brian was preparing a MediterIndian feast for us and Jen (yep, another lesbian) and combining my Saturday and Sunday nights, I've never felt more like a crappy, lesbo hostess. I shove pasta and chicken at people and make them bring me wine. Perhaps, I could learn something from Cynthia, Dan and Brian. Or perhaps I could give up hosting and just bang on their doors until they let me and my friends in...

10 comments:

be_devine said...

Dear God, I need a haircut. Like NOW!

Sweet Melissa said...

Devine - you are gorgeous!

Beth - Any hostess who serves up Crystal Light and vodka is better than Martha Stewart in my book.

DJTennessee said...

Two Babes? Check.

Photography studio? Check.

Cue up some poor-quality disco music for the background, and you've got a good Cinemax late night movie here.

L'Italiana said...

Beth, What an honor to host you at our table...Please let me be the one to teach you how to use that pasta machine before someone else starts you on the wrong foot! La mia cucina e' sempre aperta!!

Anonymous said...

Whatever that break-up was from a few months ago, it sounds as if you're recovering nicely. Some life!
Although, it was bad enough to turn you lez, so maybe you're still healing.

sfmike said...

Sam Singer? The Public Relations Face of Evil? I'm now seriously impressed/repulsed. Who in god's name are you going to be bumping into next, Don Fisher?

Spots said...

Mike, you know I love you. But truth be told, I was seated next to him and Sam is really, truly, very cool. I would gush, but you'd never give me another autographed book again.
And if Don's available for drinks at Tosca, his people should talk to mine...

Anonymous said...

You look great in this month's Marin Magazine!

greg said...

and why haven't you and melissa morphed this rock star only-in-SF lifestyle into a book or TV or HBO or Whatever deal?

I mean, really.

grey cloud said...

just give Don a call...im sure he's down to hang