Monaco--Soiree Blanc

August 12th, 2006

I would have never imagined that my day trip to the local village of Mougin last Sunday would have proven to be so fortuitous. I spent Saturday evening at the penthouse apartment of the billionaire I met at lunch. It was his annual "Soiree Blanc Avec les Etoiles” (White Party Under the Stars) thrown for a hundred of his closest friends and business associates. Having just met him and his lovely Australian companion once, receiving such an invitation two days later was a very pleasant surprise. Needless to say, three shopping trips to Cannes and Nice produced the only suitable white frock. I donned a French designed classic dress with a tight bodice, scoop neck and a full circle skirt reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn’s vestments in Sabrina. At 40 Euros, the designer dress was a steal after the four-inch white Valentino sandals I purchased to complete the look. The invitation said to dress conservatively so I paired the ensemble with a very sweet black Agnes B bolero cardigan I found at the Nice shopping mall. I topped the ensemble off with an up do and a black vintage cocktail hat I found on Melrose Blvd.

Having my party clothes prepared ready gave me a little solace. As the day of the party neared I wondered what was an American Afro-Latina to do in such a setting. I had no idea what to expect. I was to be surrounded by the Rivera's richest residents with not a clue on how to conduct myself so I trolled the Internet for helpful etiquette tips. 

For one thing, planning was key! Monaco is at most an hour's drive from my doorstep, but I have myself a two-hour head start. It was a good instinct because I left just in time to sit in traffic for two hours. I stopped en route to change at a gas station just off the expressway. The station attendant was amused to see me go into the bathroom workout attire and exit in full black tie vestments. This also turned out to be a good instinct because I not only avoided wrinkling my party dress, but I avoided expiring from suffocation due to a tight bodice, while sitting in two-hour traffic. A successful twenty minutes in the loo produced me fresh for the party. However, my back felt tight after such a long drive so I popped a painkiller to keep my back from complaining about being jacked up in four-inch heels.

It seemed like every expensive luxury and sports car in Monaco were parked in front of my host’s building. I smiled to myself as I maneuvered the convertible into a tight spot, remarking on my luck at obtaining a space directly in front of the very swank residence. My host calls home to one of the most exclusive apartment buildings in Monaco. Just seeing it's golden encrusted façade was enough to make me nervous. As I walked onto the elevator I steadied my nerves by reminding myself that money isn't everything. Values like moral character, honor and family were one’s true wealth. However, the opulence took some getting used to. Europeans display wealth in a much different fashion. Beverly Hills, Bel Aire and Park Avenue did nothing to prepare me for an evening on a Monaco rooftop but by the end of the evening I found myself comfortably sipping Dom Perignon from a flute in one hand and the other hand on the arm of a handsome Italian. But, I am getting ahead of myself.

Nearing my destination, I took comfort at the ease with which it took to spot my fellow partygoers. A Bentley full of elegant fifty-somethings decked out in their finest designer, and in once case couture, white summer attire pulled up in front of me. The passengers noticed my white dress and assumed we were headed in the same direction. The four older Frenchmen were complete gentlemen and took it upon themselves to escort me to the party. Being the only American and the only guest to arrive at the party alone, I found solace in their chivalry. I clutched the arm of a lovely fifty-something-vineyard-heir as we stepped from the gilded elevator onto the penthouse floor. A sign posted on the elegant double door in three languages asked all guests to please enter and join the soiree on the third floor balcony. In comparison, the downstairs lobby was modest to say the least. Stepping into the reception area of the penthouse I felt a rush of adrenaline from the exquisite ambiance of the home. Antiques were delicately paired with a careful blend of Southern French and Parisian décor. It was the kind of apartment that Robyn Leach guides you through on "The Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous". Growing up in Los Angeles desensitizes, displays of wealth are common among wealthy circles in my hometown, which made it easy to not be impressed by wealth. However, seeing it first hand was quite a surreal feeling. As I stood face to face with a privately owned Renoir, I was sobered knowing that it was possible that my life’s earnings would never equate to its' monetary value. In that moment my personal values were strengthen. The image of  success upheld by the Western mainstream media places an individual’s value on their monetary holdings, rather than the quality of person they are. However, I am enjoying taking a peak into “The Lifestyles of the Rich & French”.

 The lovely host greeted each of us at the door with a flute of Dom Perignon in one hand and a welcoming outstretched hand. I was guided up two flights of stairs to the balcony. My brand new four-inch Valentinos still needed to be broken in, so I was grateful for the steadying elbow of my very kind escort. Out in the patio garden the party was in full swing. Knowing only one other person at the party, I asked quickly where the young lady could be found and headed over to that general location. The sun was beginning to set as I made my rounds, gaily chatting and drinking my way through the party. Nerves automated my movements as I unconsciously sipped the champagne. Donned in white tuxedos, the very capable wait staff magically replaced each empty flute I produced. I caught myself, but possibly too late. I put down the champagne flute and continued enjoying the party by making light conversation, taking photos and employing deep breaths. In a moment of pure happiness I remarked at seeing Monaco alight like a starry night sky. The fascinating, worldly company made me ponder if this would be the last time I get to enjoy such surroundings as a guest.

 At about nine o'clock, I started feeling a little light headed and excused myself and retired to one of the guest bathrooms for ten minutes to get my bearings. At the precise moment I was reapplying my lipstick I remembered that I had taken a painkiller at 3:30pm. Needless to say, it was a magical evening until I realized that I mixed prescription pain medicine with champagne. The painkillers in my bloodstream mixed quickly with the Dom Perignon and  I carefully headed back to the balcony for some fresh air. As I inhaled the fresh sea breeze a beautiful Italian voice bid me “Buonasera”. I look over and see two handsome Italian men smiling welcomingly. The host appeared out of nowhere and kindly introduced me the gentlemen as "the American". The tall, gorgeous gentleman paid me a compliment, saying, "I looked very much like Sophia Loren this evening”. Blushing, I tried desperately to conceal my intoxication and asked if the three of us could move our conversation to one of the garden benches. They obliged and with much refinement, one gentleman extended his arm to escort me and the other took my champagne flute from my hand. I couldn't tell you the length of time I conversed with my new Italian friends, but I believe it was a span of an hour. The extent of my intoxication was becoming slightly evident. The host and the two gentlemen accompanied me to the lower living room to rest for a moment.  As we descended the staircase, my heel caught on the fabric of the silk jacquard curtains adorning the entrance of the balcony patio. Luckily my escort held me steadily or I would have tripped and fallen down a flight of stairs and smashed headfirst into the wall below. I supposed it wouldn't have been so painful because I was anesthetized almost completely, only kidding. But I digress; I was fortunate enough to reach the chaise under the Renoir safely. It was then that one of the lovely Italian men realized how truly ill I was becoming. I sat in the living room terrified by the fact that it was becoming apparent that I was unable to make it back to the villa.

I would have normally never done something as naive as to accept an invitation to stay in a stranger's flat. Upon the host’s recommendation and assurance that  this friend of his, like every single person invited to the party was at one time either in business with or a friend of the host. He assured me that he, as a businessman trusted everyone in the room; I was the only new face. Since there are no Holiday Inns or Best Westerns in Monaco, I allowed myself to be driven to the very first destination in my drive to Italy two weeks before, Bordighera. There I slept peacefully in a suite of my own for six hours, long enough to rest for my return to Cannes. Like all my travel adventures, focusing on the lessons learned are the true jewels along the journey. Lesson one: remember what medications are consumed before imbibing large quantities of expensive champagne. Lesson two: whenever possible enjoy the company of wealthy individuals because when an emergency presents itself an exciting and luxurious solution is quickly discovered. Most importantly, when merriment is in full swing, meet as many rich men as possible!