The High Road Not Taken
The chair is in fact the design of leather craftsman John Edelman (whose tanned cow hides grace many of the collectible Herman Miller Modern Classics furniture pieces). Edelman, a very tall, somewhat boisterous fellow wearing a striped oxford and Bruno Maglis with no socks, explained to The Bitch that the purpose of the chair is to be sat in while Glenlivet is being consumed.
"That's why it's made with Scotch grain leather," Edelman intoned patiently.
The Bitch turned away, wondering if it shouldn't be called Scottish grain, and, despising even the smell of the whiskey being freely dispensed, was unhappy about having to pay thirteen dollars for a Diet Coke. Sitting at the actual bar in the Falabella, Britany Ali, creative director for Ethereal Home, nudged Par Lundin from Birgitta Design Inc., pointed at The Bitch, who was waiting for her soda, and announced loudly: "Look! That girl wearing a bracelet that says 'Italian Greyhound Rescue!'"
When the dog turned to regard Ali with a cool stare, Ali said: "Oh, sorry, I thought you spoke Italian."
I do, but, like, don't shout -- in any language!
Kathy Walde, a petite young woman with a waterfall of blond hair from Gettys in Coral Gables ("Design & Fulfillment for Hospitality") finally perched on the edge of The Chair, yet she did not seem happy about the furniture or about life in a more general sense. "All my friends are in a relationship and they either went to Harvard or Yale or are married to someone who did," she mused to a friend who stroked The Chair's arm soothingly.
Finally, New York City-based Seine Kim, the event's organizer at the behest of Edelman, Glenlivet, and Architectural Digest, appeared and asked The Bitch if this party were typical for Miami Beach.
Not really. Most of these people seem to have jobs.
"Well, do you want to meet Andrew?" asked Kim. "He's upstairs in a freezing air conditioning because he has to keep cool, since he's wearing so many layers of wool."
Before the hound could wonder about what that might mean, Andrew -- who could rightfully claim to be Sir Andrew -- made quite an entrance, in several types of sashes, vests, coats, a pair of sturdy brogans, and a lovely, subtle, grey-on-grey tartan plaid kilt.
Actually, Andrew Wells, as he prefers to go by, retains the title of Head Ranger of the Glenlivet Estate. He has turned his family's stewardship in Scotland into a wildlife and nature preserve, and the proceeds from the distilled product keep the park open, free of cost, to subjects of the crown.
"This is my first tour of the U.S., and tomorrow I'm in San Francisco," Wells told The Bitch. "Is it going to be cool there?"
Yes, it is. -as told to Jean Carey