Friday, September 14, 2012

The Killer Queen at the Grand Opening of the Louis Vuitton Store

Sometimes the lyrics to pop music play in my head at the most appropriate and inappropriate times. It's like a soundtrack of moments in time, tunes and lyrics piped into my brain, in stereo surround sound.

I recall a time in the late 1980’s when I decided that if I ever had a big formal wedding ceremony, Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” would play as I sashayed down the aisle. Festive and spot on! These are the kind of thoughts I have. Go figure.

Anyway.....I digress, as Jeff and I arrived at the private grand opening party for the new Louis Vuitton boutique at Easton last night, I had one of my musical moments. Killer Queen. It was almost surreal even for me, so just follow along as best you can. Killer Queen in stereo surround sound.

Ever since I was barely a teen my father and close friends have lovingly(?) referred to me as the queen. This is actually a double reference to both my holier than thou, ritzy attitude as well as my dubious title of Matzo Ball Queen 1983.
Let's just say I got a tiara and leave it at that. I am the Queen, fair enough. Fair Enough!

It is no secret either- some even call me "Queenis"- you know who you are. Last night, at the velvet rope entrance to the fancy Louis Vuitton soiree, I was tempted to jokingly say, "I present, Her Royal Highness the Queen Helene and her skinny ass husband, Jeff Slutsky!" as the party planner scanned her guest list for admittance. It was that kind of an event, with that kind of guest list. I refrained. I wanted to announce my arrival with regal authority, but did not. Would it have been wrong to say, party of two, Jeff Slutsky and the Killer Queen?

Once inside Louis Vuitton, the festivities were quite grand. I quickly took a gander around the room. Architecturally, it was stunning.


This was a retail store, not the lobby of a swanky hotel, yet I was mesmerized at all the glorious details. Oh yes, there were purses and accessories everywhere. Handbags, sunglasses and belts- OH MY! It was a boutique, cleverly disguised as a party.

Since Moet & Chandon owns Louis Vuitton, the champagne was flowing freely in shimmering crystal flutes. Cue the music...

“She keeps her Moet et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet
'Let them eat cake' she says
Just like Marie Antoinette”

As with any shopping adventure, I played a little game with myself. If money were no object, what would I buy? Tempting as this may sound, I played for almost 30 minutes before deciding on this runway edition
of the famous Speedy handbag. It is still in the store if anyone needs ideas, you know who you are.

The evening had a signature cocktail called the “sweet speedy” which was crafted of citrus vodka, peach liquor, lemon twists and a splash of the ever present, Moet & Chandon champagne. I savored every drop of the first one, and proceeded to suck down another one. There were teeny tiny appetizers of all kinds, some with caviar garnish.

“Caviar and cigarettes
Well versed in etiquette
Extraordinarily nice
She's a Killer Queen”

As I snapped images on my i-phone,


I was taken aback by my svelte husband standing next to the vintage Louis Vuitton steamer trunk. Jeff looked fabulous and I joked that the luggage was made the year he was born. I posed for the mandatory party pics, and Jeff and I stepped onto the red carpet for the house photographer.
These cardboard frames and digital images were the take home party favors and I admit, I barely recall donning a Louis Vuitton silk scarf, dark shades and the Bordeaux Alma bag for the photographer.

As my alcohol intake increased, my inhibitions decreased. By George, I believe this queen was just a little drunk. Suddenly, the music in my head was playing louder and louder.

“Perfume came naturally from Paris (naturally)
For cars she couldn't care less
Fastidious and precise
She's a Killer Queen”

Jeff had to take me to get something real to eat before I embarrassed myself or worse, embarrassed him. The darling miniature hors d'oeuvres from the silver trays were not gonna cut it, unless I ate 422 of them. Once we were in the car on the way home, I got all frisky as the sweet speedy cocktail was still making me feel quite sweet and a little sassy. My husband helped me up the stairs and into our room where I don’t recall the rest of the torrid and intimate details.

“Drop of a hat she's as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild..
She's all out to get you
She's a Killer Queen”

And just like that, the music quit playing and I passed out cold, still wearing my mascara and tiara.

Killer Queen, Killer Evening at Louis Vuitton.

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