Young People Ain’t What They Used To Be
or are they?
Copyright Vladimir Kagan, June 6, 2012
I was invited to a great birthday party last night!… It was really flattering as I was the only person over 40. These were, bright, good looking, relaxed New Yorkers celebrating one of their own 27th Birthday! It is lovely to be so young and so accomplished. These “kids” have major jobs with responsibility… the girls are ultra-cute, comfortable in their own skin. The “boys” hide behind scruff stubble beards, wearing designer jeans and open-necked shirts. Naturally, I drifted toward the girls (or my kind hostess sicced them onto Me.) Young career women with ambitious futures. It was a small intimate party and the guys soon nudged over as well… (Following the scent of the roses)
The "Birthday child ", Ashlee Harrison and me...please note my Dry Martini - (olive on the side) and Ashlee's Mojito... or something!
It takes only one Martini to loosen my tongue. From then on, I held court like a Pasha!... till way past my bedtime. Toward midnight, they tired of my banter and slinked off to a nearby Club (sans me) for dancing and more exotic cocktails… food consumption was sparse but fancy booze flowed freely. (From early reports, the next day they all had a shared headache).
Here is my blow-by-blow
The Birthday girl chose Little Italy for her party. Grrrreat idea! ... Every restaurant on the street oozed with the irresistible aroma of pasta and marinara sauce. My digestive juices were flowing. Her choice turned out to be an unmarked basement reminiscent of a speakeasy. As you squeezed down five rickety steps, turned a corner into a dimly lit space, the restaurant consisted of one enormous bar stretching the full length of the building (Obviously a portent of the crowds that were to follow)… there were three or four booths with tables for early birds to squeeze into…. The rest had to stand. Loudspeakers blared at boom box decibels, with disco music… conversation was necessarily held to a minimal - only to the person sitting on either side.
Ashlee and Nektar De Stagni, a very hip jewelry designer
My faithful audience, Pier Harrison, work in films, her boyfriend, William Rauscher is a Professor at NYU and plays keyboard at night with bands
The “restaurant’s’” reputation was for fancy mixed drinks not food: mashed fruits and vegetables diluted with Tequila, Rum, Cachaca, Vodka… they specialized in Mojito, Micheladas, Green vespas, Moloco, Chupacabra, Quentao… a Wikipedia of exotic booze… These drinks needed a lab technician to dissect their content… The guests cooed and ahh’d over these concoctions. A simple D-r-y Vodka Martini was obviously not their métier! Food was definitely secondary…
My entourage consisted of a PHD professor of Humanities who played electronic music and keyboard in a band, gals running major PR and design firms, a journalist, film kids, and practicing architects… everyone was getting “happy” on their sweet potions. My small entourage hovered around me, eating my words of wisdom (as the food came late).
At nighttime, these attractive young people escape from the real world. Groupie entertaining dominated their after-hours lives. (One-on-one relationships pose a far too serious impingement on their careers.)
My entourage listening to my sage advice.. (or are they tex-ting?) On my left: William Rauscher with Ashlee's sister Pier and on my right Sylvia an Italian journalist, Rena, an interior designer and Molly, a publicist for book publishing house
My advise was: Get Married! It was high time to “get real”… enjoy the comfort of a home life… forget bars and clubs… You’ll truly be much more productive! My formula: Select a partner you can live with on a desert Island (or in Brooklyn). I told them about my own sordid youth: Stork Club, and El Morocco with dancing till 3 every night and work at 9… I told them about the models and Stewardesses that drifted in and out of my apartment, (until Erica finally kicked them out as she moved in) I told them about our 54 years of happy marriage... that marriage didn’t mean cooing niceties every day… nor agreeing to everything your partner wants… it is a constant tug-of-war… (Marriage is a war with a peace treaty at the end)… and most importantly, I told them Never, Never to go to bed angry. The bed is meant for gentler things. (I didn’t tell them that sex is not a cure-all, but it sure helps!)
My bevy of beauties bidding me goodnight while they headed off to the disco!
I hope that I dispelled some of their fears of the unknown and will soon be invited to lots of HIP weddings!