Party

DH: Our blog partner Jason Rice just attended one of the hottest book parties of the season, for the launch of Maria Semple’s This One Is Mine from Little Brown. The account of his adventures is below:

Jason Rice: There isn’t a good time to show up at a book party, too late and you miss all the fun, too early and the conversation gets stiff. I’ve been to a few parties, (I can name them on one hand) and I always show up too early and end up talking to myself while sipping Pellegrino in the corner. Sometimes I get lucky and suddenly find myself standing next to a movie star of note (you’re asking yourself, “this is a book party, why the movie star? I don’t have the answer), and get to discuss my favorite movies of theirs and sometimes discover that they’re even nicer than I thought, (that happened at an A.M. Homes party two summers ago).

Last night I was invited to Maria Semple’s book party in the West Village of Manhattan at the home of Melisa and Robert Soros. I had heard whisperings that this would be a big deal. The home itself was supposed to be filled with incredible art work. I showed up 20 minutes late, a nice woman took my name and another wonderful man, and his team of co-workers took my coat and offered me a Pellegrino. On the table next to the door was a black and white framed photograph that I couldn’t place, and a small video screen that gave me a crystal clear view of the front steps where I had just been standing, (I tried knocking when I got up the steps but the door opened without me getting a hand out, now I know why). The home was immediately warm and inviting with high ceilings, crown molding, stunning chandeliers and furniture that seemed almost too perfect to sit on. This wasn’t Queen of England decoration, but very hip and modern, post- modern, if that’s still an operative phrase. I saw Maria Semple and we chatted for a second – for the first time in person. She was wonderful, radiant, friendly, casual and funny. The first floor of the brownstone was two rooms; the back room had a fireplace, the front faced the street. I was one of twenty people at this point. After a few minutes, the crowd grew and I found myself in the back room of the first floor with two wonderful people whose name I couldn’t remember if you held a gun to my head. We talked about our kids: their daughter goes to school with the daughter of a famous bad boy writer whose work we’ve covered on the blog. We talked about the stress/joy of raising kids, and then they excused themselves to talk to other friends.

At this point I just wandered around and nearly run into a world renowned actress who just flew in from the L.A. (I saw her on the Golden Globes, with an actress many years her junior, they presented an award together, giggling like they’d just heard the funniest joke in the world) and she looked ravishing in all black. I’ve loved her movies for years, her playwright husband and sometimes actor wasn’t in attendance (they live in the neighborhood). Safely tucked away in the back of the room I watched the party turn into a feeding frenzy. There were macaroni and cheese canapés, (odd, but they looked like Rice Crispy treats that had gone through the dryer) and prime rib on toast, very small, no bigger than a fingernail. I had two slices of Ray’s pizza prior to walking over to the west side, so I passed on the snacks. Silver platters (real silver) covered in drinks were gliding around the room held by lovely waiters, and seemed to arrive every few seconds. Standing in the corner I stared at the Andy Warhol black and white mural of Elvis pointing a pistol at me, and then wondered how heavy the Warhol Brillo Box that was encased in clear Plexiglas weighed?

After twenty minutes of watching the party reach its peak I decided to ask for my coat, but not before going downstairs to the restroom. The apartment warms up immediately because of the wood floors and the dark oak banisters; you can’t help but feel right at home. Downstairs I found the kitchen and a dining room that was decorated in a burgundy theme. In the bathroom over the toilet was an 11×14 Diane Arbus, something that I’d only seen in my History of Photography class in college. I noticed on the way down to the restroom that the wall was lined with black & white photographs, Garry Winogrand, Lyons, more Arbus, more pictures that I’ve only seen in books, and having my degree in photography, I’ve seen these pictures over and over.

I said my goodbyes to Maria Semple and tried to find the Hachette online marketing team that I was told would be at the party, but got lost in the crowd. On my way out I got a good look at the man whose been telling me to buy a PC, instead of a Mac, and for all these years I thought he would be different in person, turns out he looks just like he does on TV.