Isabel woke suddenly from her half slumber with an abrupt start, a near panic inhaling of air, her eyes blinded by afternoon sun flooding the dining room through floor to ceiling windows. The rush of euphoria from her aged Kush had left her. Isabel was slam cold sober and a bit dry. The afternoon end of a stoned space entered sometime before lunch. Judging by the remains of the meal left on the Flora Danca luncheon plate, she had heartily enjoyed the meal, as well as a 2003 Cabernet from her cellar's private reserve. The bottle lay on its side on the shining George the Second supper table, drained dry, she vaguely recalled playing spin the bottle solitaire, a game only she knew. A, Baccarat wineglass had been broken and the shards shone bright all over the table.
Isabel now had an enormous headache. A throbbing pain but one that a toke or two would cure. Reaching for her Hermes black Alligator Kelly handbag she quickly found her red Dunhill cigarette case and the Cartier gold lighter. Lighting her perfectly rolled and huge joint she inhaled a long drag, held it, exhaled and repeated the process. The tension left her head, her facial muscles relaxed, ease returned and she felt right again. The silver Louis the 15th mantel clock chimed 3:00 o'clock. Good GOD she thought I've been at lunch for three hours, the realization caused her to giggle slightly. Isabel, she thought, "you are simply a slacker and there is nothing that can be down about it. Three o'clock! what is to be done with you" another toke, than a sudden awakening look crossed her face. "HELL..she yelled, " I have Mde. Sofa's trunk show in 15 minutes" . "Juan!! Jaun!!! JAUN!!! " she yelled " where is that man?", she recalled silently oh that's right he's at the vineyard. " Right, I need to have the concierge hail a car" . She rose quickly and in one step was back in her Alligator pumps, grabbed her cell and called the lobby, "How may I serve you Mrs. Harris?' "I'm running late.. I need a Towncar or a cab, hell I'll take a rickshaw, just have whatever it is ready when I get off the elevator." "Yes. Mrs Harris...I'll see..". Isabel turned it off and tossed it into the Kelly bag. Right- what needs repair...she walked over to the gilt Louis 14th mirror that had cost her husband Barry more than her first new car post -Berkeley, " Hmmm...not so bad"... placing a coat of red lipstick on, she surveyed the rest of her round face, those little queens at MILLS PLACE DAY SPA charged her a fortune but her hair was still perfectly and artfully messed, her makeup looked both irreproachable and flattering. The Art of Kabuki knew no higher form than the artful mask the queens applied to her no longer young face each morning while she was resident in the city. " There. Right ...Lets go". Grabbing the first fur she came across in her hallway closet she threw it over her green Diane Von Faustenberg wrapdress, snapped the Alligator bag that now dangled at her elbow closed and quietly closed the thick walnut door behind her. The door and lock system was activated and the nearly silent noise of it locking reminded Isabel of the sound of a vault door closing.
The elevator door opened and upon entering she noticed her reflection in the brown mirror that lined the back wall...her mouth opened a bit in surprise..she had grabbed her new Chinchilla. It was simply gorgeous. It played well off the Alligator handbag and pumps but was a bit over the top for mid afternoon. " OH Well ", she thought. " I'll simply have to carry it off". The door closed and the speed of the descent from the penthouse on the 38th floor to the lobby and it's nearly motionless ending never failed to delight her. Placing her Chanel sunglasses on Isabel turned to the front as the elevator door opened. "Mrs.Harris", greeted the concierge George or Tony or Bill, she never remembered the names or faces and as she was always a bit stoned and they all were blurrily interchangeable it seemed too difficult to attempt to do so. " I have a Town car for you. but you didn't mention your destination....I assumed you'll have this billed to".. Isabel didn't stop or speak and the man went silent. In fact she never spoke to the help, her own or the building staff. It simply didn't occur to her to do so. Unless directing them the lady kept silent if they were about. The Doorman escorted her to the waiting car and asked "Where to Mrs. Harris?" "Mde. Sophia on Sutter Street" replied Isabel. Settling into the backseat she sunk into the velour seat and didn't hear the doorman utter "stoned again you old cunt" as he stepped away from the departing car.
The driver sped through the sunny streets and Isabel marveled in the magic of a warm, bright, fall San Francisco afternoon, the realization slowly dawned upon her that wearing a Chinchilla was a huge absurdity on" such a warm afternoon. " Oh well I do try to amuse she thought." Arriving at Sophia's, Isabel restrained her eagerness to bounce into the salon, in order to allow the driver to open her door, it was his job after all. He unlocked the door remotely.Isabel waited. She waited, she stared at his reflection. in the rear view mirror, he stared back, neither blinked, he unlocked the door again and motioned that her door was unlocked...."Oh really.."she said loudy..."oh thank you" Closing the car door behind her Isabel uttered a very audible "ASS" but a boozey belch lessened its intended effect. The car sped away and the lady walked the three paces from the curb to the front door of the elegant shop.
Ringing the bell once, twice and three times in quick order, our Chinchilla clad Isabel, 50 something, overweight, stoned and an alcoholic, stood eagerly at Mde. Sofia's locked front door, right hand on her hip, black Alligator bag dangling at her right elbow, the urban glare shaded by sunglasses. Isabel waited. Ringing again once, the door slowly opened inward and the impeccable and impossibly chic Sophia greeted her warmly "Isabel! "What a delightful "
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