So I went to a black tie ball last weekend. It was a swell soirée, see, thrown by the LA Spinsters. I know what you’re thinking. But these Spinsters are young, pretty and privileged, not old, decrepit and reliant on a generous relative. (Can’t find a website for LA, but these SF cuties are probably sister Spinsters.)
Luckily for you, I’ve already gotten all my ‘ball/balls’ jokes out of my system, so they’ll get no play today. (See what I did?) It was held at the fancy-pants Jonathan Club downtown, which features hotel-type rooms for its members, a restaurant, a parking garage, ballrooms, and probably butlers (upon request).
I can’t find an interior shot, but the architecture and decor are classically elegant (they’ve been in LA for over 100 years), and while it may reek of money, honey — it doesn’t reek of mothballs and condescension, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down. We feasted on filet and lemon tart, and everyone hit the dance floor when the live band played “Don’t Stop Believing.” FUN!
Finally, in true Cinderella fashion, my Jetta turned into one of these at midnight, just as the valet handed me my keys:
AWKWARD. See you tomorrow.