Although my notes are saved to my laptop, which has not yet decided to return to the world of the living, I’m posting some highlights now with a more detailed party recap to come. Feel free to send my beloved laptop a ‘get well soon’ wish or two. Here we go!
When I last left you (and again, my apologies for such an abrupt pause in party reporting), the party for Verdi Requiem had kicked off the final week of patron gatherings.
The next party I attended projected an eerie aura that was not lost on the arriving guests, several of whom commented on the strange vibe emanating from the home. When I remarked that I felt as though we were entering an Anne Rice party, the people around me murmured in agreement, and there was suddenly a lot of “no, you go first” as we faced the massive white marble steps that lead to the front piazza. I was looking for Lestat when I discovered my camera had a flash sync problem that caused an interminable delay with the shutter and resulted in fuzzy images likely to meet Ken Kesey’s approval. As I was leaving, a patron tapped my arm and said, “You know that vampires don’t show up on film, right? They don’t eat either.” It had taken less than five minutes for word of my camera issue to meld with the fast-circulating Anne Rice comment (others drew the comparison, too).
The Wednesday party in honor of Music is Time was an absolute delight. “We are vampire free!” proclaimed one of the hosts as I made my way down the long lane to Lynn Hanlin’s home, which is tucked away at the back end of a deep upper Meeting Street lot. Enveloped by large, lush palms, Lynn’s garden is also water hazard free, flush with places to sit, and charming all the way around. A few employees of Gelateria Modica dished sweet gelato from an umbrella cart, and a buffet of plate-worthy food beckoned guests from the bricked patio— seafood paella, salad, and the like.
Annie Stone, hostess alongside Lynn and Denise Barto, lead me toward the homemade truffles, although I was sidetracked by the lobster ceviche that was served in seashells. What presentation!
Denise and I shared a laugh courtesy of a man seated behind her at medEia who chose an ill-timed quiet pause in the performance to say to his companion, “I don’t get it.”
(Unfortunately, those photos are on my laptop… hope to be able to post them soon.)
Friday was a double-header that started with an early evening garden party hosted by Celeste and Charles Patrick. Held in the garden of their Church Street home, guests entered the party beneath a rather symphonic Capiz shell chandelier that whistled and clinked in the wind. I thought it to be an auspicious sign that Mr. Glass was nearby, but I did not encounter him until the second party.
Charles and Celeste Patrick’s White Party
The garden itself was draped in whisper thin panels of sheer white fabric that danced in the fans that were clipped to the tent poles (all white). Charles and Celeste were clad head-to-toe in white, and they’d asked their friends to don the same. First sight of Charles prompted a laugh as I drew a comparison to Tom Wolfe.
Charles and Celeste Patrick’s White Party
The food, too, was white. Sushi, crab meat, quail eggs, potato soup, cream puffs, and more. Lovely.
Charles and Celeste Patrick’s White Party
At the end of the party, friends of the Patricks hung around to take part in the surprise toast that Randall and Jennifer Goldman had arranged along with Melinda Nicholson to celebrate Celeste and Charles’ 31st wedding anniversary. A multi-tiered wedding cake was presented to Celeste and Charles while Randall read letter of congratulations from Mayor Riley and Melinda lead everyone in a champagne toast. The Patricks, including children Laura and Charlie, are some of the neatest people in Charleston, and it was an honor to help them commemorate such an amazing milestone.
Charles and Celeste Patrick’s White Party
More to come including the party in honor of Philip Glass’ Book of Longing, another white party, and the finale festivities.