Embarrassed

I’m embarrassed because I feel as if every post I write begins with an apology for being out of touch.  The truth is that the past few days, it’s been mighty difficult to peel myself out of bed.  If only I were Gogo Schiaparelli, the daughter of Elsa and the future mother of Marisa Berenson (did you know it’s pronounced Mar-ee-za?)  Particularly the last part:

“After leaving Abbot’s Hill, she went to school in Paris, spent a winter in Munich, and took cooking lessons from a Russian chef.  In London she lived in her mother’s home with a chaperone, went on holidays to Morocco or Rome with her mother, and then might spend a few weeks visiting Diasy Fellowes’s villa at Cap Martin and from there head to Monte Carlo.  She traveled with her own pink silk sheets.”

Oh, and did I mention that I’m getting married?

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