HA! Dear Anyone Who Knows One Of 365 Expecting Gifts Like Pictured: Dream On!!!!!!!

Dear Ether, 

Bah-Humbug.  Yep.  You heard me.  And this is from a nice Jewish girl!  Here’s my dilemma.  Shoe-gal, whose local convenient store, if she lived in London, would be the Harrods Food Halls, has bought me a Christmas gift.  A very kind gesture indeed. However, I must reciprocate, and as we know my local convenient store does not have a green awning and a doorman.  

It was really strange that she wrote me and told me that she had bought me something.  We haven’t seen one another in about 2 weeks.  She’s been doing business in NYC (probably shopping in Bergdorf’s) and she finally got back into town.  Truthfully, I have missed her.  She’s a helluva lot of fun, really kind, and has pizzazz in the bag!  She also gets me out, which is good.  The Quasimodo lump that is starting to grow on my back from bad posture (and a crummy desk chair) from toiling away at my computer is really getting unsightly.  Anyway, I dunno about you guys, but I never announce that I have bought someone a gift…….UNLESS I want one BACK!  

So that’s my theory.  Shoe gal wants me to know she has bought me a gift and she wants something in return.  An exchange.  Fuck!  The problem is I don’t have the bucks to get her something that will live up to her bling lifestyle.  And, what happens if she got me something outrageously pricey?  What am I supposed to do when she opens my card with a $25 gift voucher to H&M?  I think she’d shudder at the fact that the store carried anything with polyester.  And what happens if she’s just picked me up a token, and I end up spending my Bat Mitzvah savings on her?  Then I’ll feel like a superficial and  presumptuous ass.

I feel very rude.  She has asked me to hang out this weekend and I have ignored her E-mail.  Terrible, I know.  But I’m afraid to communicate with her because I’m in this bind.  Look, the truth is I can’t see her this weekend anyway (I’m on deadline).  But, eventually she and I will end up making a date and the inevitable exchange of pressies will happen.  Damn I hate the holidays. 

So Ethers, what’s your advice?  Tis’ the season of giving, right?  But, what happens if all you have lining your pockets is lint and some old chewing gum?  I can’t ask Shoe-gal how much she spent, or what she got me.  And I can’t get the gift first and then give her one based on how much she spent……….and what do you get for a woman who can afford anything anyway?  And shoes are OUT of the question. 

So—how much should I spend?  What genre of gift should I give her? And, what do I do if her gift is crazy expensive and mine looks like a cheap piece of crap in comparison?

 Please don’t tell me it’s the thought that counts.  Because if you guys felt that way, then you would all be happy with a shitty Christmas jumper, a fruit-cake and “The Beach Boys Sing Christmas” CD……….right? 

HELP!

Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

I swear to god, I think some of the rich assholes I've come across in my life, would, if they were sentenced to die, end up requesting a bespoke chair like this. They wouldn't DARE touch another filthy heathen's death throne let alone sit in it without it being a brand name. The people I've seen come and go throughout my life have been so superficial that when I couldn't measure up to their spending habits, they judged me not for who I was as a person, but who I was when I got dolled up or knew the right people. As soon as my credit card got maxxed out, so did our friendship. I keep falling into the trap of meeting these people partly because on the outside I look a certain way, but also because of the profession I'm in. This is why I keep my distance from people. Because at the end of the day, these fuckers will die peacefully in the electric chair as long as their shackles have shiny brass LV hardware emblazoned on them. The worst part is, they aren't even deep enough to care that they are about to sizzle. They'll just be pleased as punch to be going out in style.

Dear Ethers,

 My pal, uber celeb shoe gal is having a party tomorrow night and English gent cannot come. He’s about 2 weeks behind on a project that he’s doing freelance work for in the UK and it’s due Monday.  He simply doesn’t have an hour, let alone an evening to spare.  I’m really nervous about going alone.  Shoe gal has on her guest list people like Angela Basset, Johnny Depp, Halle Berry (and hopefully her man….grrr), Annette Bening and Warren Beatty.  She also has a lot of Beverly Hills elite (blechh) and very chi-chi designers, business people and friends (hopefully the normal people) coming as well. 

I really like shoe gal.  She’s fun to hang out with—alone.  But when she is in her element amongst the rich and fabulous she acts her role and it makes me uncomfortable.  I also don’t know a single person going and feel like I’m going to be the poor schmuck who is unemployed, not wearing Cartier and living at home with her parents.  

I’ve felt like this a lot in my life.  I went to extremely expensive and elite private schools from 12-21.  The kids were all children of directors and actors, CEO’s of major companies or huge real estate guru’s, or people that were serious investment bankers.  I always hated becoming friends with them because even though by global standards I was doing pretty damned well financially, in their circle I was always the poor girl who could never keep up.  I was never able to go out for $15 drinks, take taxis, shop at Barney’s, give expensive gifts, buy the pricey make-up.  They made me feel insecure and embarrassed.  And to be honest, it really wasn’t my fault.  I was proud of myself for putting my foot down, not spending money I didn’t have and never pretending to be someone I wasn’t.  They were the jerks who couldn’t understand the concept that maybe there were some people who didn’t fly in their Concord lifestyle.  By then, they dropped me—I supposed it was a good thing because they probably weren’t nice enough people anyway.  But, it always hurt because the process in dumping me was humiliating. 

My shoe gal knows that I’m just a freelancer but I think she assumes I have money.  I wear very expensive handbags (all bought for 50% off when I worked as head of copy and content at a very exclusive department store in the UK).  I wear expensive clothes (again, either bought on sale and then again marked down with my discount, or through my clever eye at TJ Maxx, outlet malls, mega-sales and savvy shopping).  I don’t think I’ve bought anything full price in years.  I’m starting to get the problems I have with her that I’ve always had with the other rich friends I’ve acquired.  She wants to go out to eat to places where the bill comes to $120 because she ONLY drinks Champagne and sparkling wine.  She shops on Rodeo Drive (she lives about a block from there) and she never even looks at the price tags at Chanel (she has a personal shopper there who knows her by name and brings her, yes, her favorite bubbly while she tries on $5,000 puffer jackets). 

Here’s what you should know about her.  She is 43, so almost 14 years my senior.  She was first and orthopedic surgeon and then became one of the top shoe designers, at least in America.  She came to this country at 8, fleeing from war and speaking no English.  This woman is brilliant and has made the American dream happen for herself.  She is a successful businessperson and she has worked damned hard.  She should reap the benefits of this—I’m not taking that from her.  But, it’s just getting hard to keep up.  I don’t want to lose her as a friend.  But when she calls me up and says let’s meet for a drink, she’s not talking about the local pub.  She means The Four Season’s Hotel. 

I have NEVER allowed ANYONE to treat me as a charity case.  I’ve had these rich friends offer to pay for me and I have always said no.  There are two reasons why.  1: I never want to owe someone because then they feel that they own you in some way. 2: I feel it has to damage the relationship somehow because the friend might start feeling resentful that they are being used for their cash.  

I had a terrible incident happen to me in London.  I had an extremely rich girlfriend of mine who came to visit from the States and wanted to go to the Light Bar in London.  A drink there is 15quid.  She was staying with me and wanted to take a cab and I told her that it would cost 40quid and the tube was free.  She was really angry and offered to pay for the taxi.  I finally gave in but was really uncomfortable.  She then got us into the Light Bar and kept ordering us rounds (there were two other friends she knew from London there as well).  I said to her that I could not afford more than one drink, but she kept ordering anyway and told me she’d pay.  I was gutted and miserable the whole night.  When the bill came, it was almost 1000 pounds.  All 3 of them took out their credit cards and I was the only person who couldn’t pony up the cash.  My “friend” explained, in a stupid, drunken manner, that I didn’t have the money to afford the drinks and could the three of them cover me?  I was devastated.  I didn’t speak to her for the rest of the next day and thank goodness that evening she flew home.  She and I speak on occasion, but the friendship really died on that night.  I swore NEVER to let that happen again. 

The problem with the business I’m in is that I’m either interacting with people who have large expense accounts or who are very wealthy.  I don’t actually hang out with fellow journalists all that often.  It’s not easy NOT having the green.  I want to be friends with my shoe gal, but I don’t want to have the talk with her that I’ve had with so many that has made me turn crimson—that I just can’t afford to go out with her.  

Again, the irony is that I come from a well-off family, and I would certainly not be considered poor.  But to these people, I am broke.  A hindrance.  So, I’ll go to this shoe gal’s party, put on a big, smiley face and pretend that all is hunky-dory in my life.  But inside, my heart is thumping and all I’ll want to do is get the fuck out of there.  Can you now understand why I don’t want to be broke with English gent and why I want so badly to be a success in a career and make money so that I’m not embarrassed anymore?  I know I should be confidant in myself regardless of what others think—but realistically, the world doesn’t work that way.  You’ve got to be able to pay the bills, not matter how lovely a disposition you have or how happy or in love you are.  I NEVER want to be someone’s charity case or anyone’s poor relation.

I’ll give you guys the details about the party as soon as………..

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

What a HUNK! Notice me Charles....me...the girl through the screen...c'mon...you're staring right at me. UGH! You just missed me and caught sight of that Camilla woman. Shame. Now I'm doomed to be a nobody for the rest of my life and you get to play polo and have servants while I get to look for work and earn a pittance but pay 30% taxes so you can travel in a Bentley! BRILLIANT! Oh Charlie. It could have been us.

Dear Ethers,

Tonight I am going to an event where I’m meeting a Prince.  I can’t tell you anything about the red carpet itself (ARGHHH) but that’s not really what the post is about anyway.  It’s about the idea of royalty and a girl who just doesn’t understand the significance of its importance.

For days I’ve been receiving details about security, how to present myself to him when we meet.  Oh and his biography (AKA: a dissertation).  Ethers, you have to remember that I am going to be also interviewing celebrities that would be considered Hollywood royalty—people much more famous and significant than this blue blooded gentleman.  And you know what—all I’ve had to do is IMDB for research–easy.

Growing up as an American I’ve never understood monarchies.  I suppose I understood the tradition, but I never understood the money that they cost and the opulence that they lived in just to do…………what exactly?  I know there are a lot of royalists.  Though having lived in England, it tends to be the older generation that likes the tradition rather than the younger folks.  We just don’t get Liz and Charlie and Hot Ginge and Wills.  Yes, they bring a lot of money in for tourism and that’s great.  But, does that really compensate for the money they cost the taxpayer?  I want to go to China White’s for free and have my Chanel bag stuffed full of 50 pound notes from the taxes of the cleaner on Piccadilly Circus buying me Grey Goose on the rocks all night.  I want my face on porcelain sold in shops around tourist attractions so that people can admire me.  Why…because……well……..why?

I’m not just picking on England.  I just know the monarchy best there.  I really think it’s ALL so ridiculous globally.  I mean, look at the royal families in Saudi Arabia.  They literally have dolphins brought in for parties to be a novelty in their pools where they die afterwards from the chlorine.  They live so opulently, while most of the country is so poor that they wear boiler suits in 100 degree weather fixing roads for $1 an hour.   There are people living in such horrible conditions–in slums and Council Estates.  People who need rehab and don’t have the money.  But, the queen has a “Diamond as Big As The Ritz” that could probably pay for hundreds of her subjects to seek the help they need.  Yet it sits in a vault getting steamed every so often by a royal gem cleaner (another expense) amongst the other masses of jewels she probably doesn’t even know she has.

Monarchies are not today what they were once were.  Elizabeth the 2^nd ain’t no Elizabeth the 1^st and we know it.  So why the hell do we back out of rooms and bow to these old birds?  Why do lords and ladies get estates and benefits that hard-working folks don’t?

So I’ve been instructed that I must curtsy and when introduced say “It is a pleasure to meet you, your Highness.”  I’ve had to practice this several times with a straight face and then without stuttering because I just can’t spit it out.  Classy, right?  It’s wrong of me not to embrace that this is the way this country operates and I have to accept this man for who he is.  I guess running through my veins is the blood of an American with the history of men who signed the Declaration of Independence—a veritable death warrant for a democracy so they could break free from the reigns of a king or a queen.

I know I should be looking at tonight as novel and fun.  And I will—it will all be looked at with a grain of salt.  But in that moment when he comes to me, and I have to curtsy—it will be very serious.  That’s when it becomes real and that’s why this idea came to my mind for a post.

I’m sure a lot of you are going to defend royalty or maybe agree with me about the foolishness of kings and queens.  There are many people who would kill to be in my shoes tonight and would see it as an absolute honor to even touch this mans hands.  I’m just looking at the bigger picture.  The idea of whether or not royalty is a rotting appendage of society.  I’d love to hear your comments and thoughts about this topic.

LOL.  I’m just imagining him showing up in ermine, a crown and shoes with a diamond buckles.  I’m sure he’ll probably be wearing Armani.  Anyway….until then…..I must practice……..so………..how does this sound………….. “It is a pleasure to meet you, your (eeeeeeeeeeek) Highness?”  Not too bad, right?  I hope he doesn’t notice my chewed fingernails.  I have been going through a lot lately.  But I’m only human—and you know what, at the end of the day, DNA-wise, so is he.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365