Decline and Fall in Yuppieville
In the five years since they were featured in the televised schlockumentary “Dirk and Bree: An American Yupple,” Dirk Miller and Bree Wellington have been through hell. They got married, separated, divorced and then got back together. But worst of all, they bought IBM at 175.
Bree left the law firm where she had worked for 10 years, but returned when they agreed to make her a partner. Shortly after rejoining Sharkey, Sharkey, Goniff & Wellington, Bree learned she was pregnant.
Dirk had his share of business problems, too. Just when his nationally franchised chain of addictionology parlors, Recovery World, was about to be traded publicly, the October crash hit. Then he and Bree sold their condo at Bay Gauche at the exact moment when the condo market in the city dipped. They bought their house in more rural Weeping Willow Hollow just as interest rates peaked.
About the only thing they did right was decide to have a child while their au pair could still get amnesty.
I decided to drive out to Weeping Willow Hollow to interview the Miller-Wellingtons as part of the continuing effort of journalists in America to keep the public aware of what’s hot and what’s squat, what’s in and what’s sin, what’s Fawn and what’s Ron. Yuppies--are they dead or what? Are they couch potatoes or Jacuzzi jicamas? Are they brie-and-wine liberals or meat-and-potato moderates? What do they think of Bush, Dukakis, Gorbachev and Geraldo? What will they buy next?
Just past the new subdivision of Vista del Mall is the quaint old town of Weeping Willow Hollow. Old clapboard houses that once sat rotting are now being fixed up by couples like Dirk and Bree--people eager to raise their children in a small-town atmosphere within commuting distance of the city and convenient to a Nordstrom’s.
As I sat on the restored brocaded davenport, sipping the lemonade Dirk had made for me from his very own lemon tree, Bree stopped cuisinarting carrots long enough to bring in the baby.
“This is Rachel Whoopi,” she said, holding the tiny bundle in her arms. “I liked the name Rachel, and Dirk thought Whoopi sounded kind of biblical.” Dirk got a few bottles and took the baby. Passing the Chardonnay to us, he clutched the soy formula to his bosom and held it forth for Rachel Whoopi.
“I wanted to breast-feed exclusively,” Bree said, “but then Dirk would miss the experience of nursing.”
After Rachel Whoopi had her bottle, she burped. Dirk and Bree applauded and said, “Isn’t she something?” I nodded and noted the new wainscoting, lilac-print wallpaper, antique wicker settees, hurricane lamps and IBM clone.
“Put her down in the Mission Oak crib next to the computer, Honeylump,” Bree said as Dirk puckered up his lips to make rude noises on Rachel Whoopi’s tummy.
Finally, we got to chat. “So, I think all our readers want to know what you two are into. Last time we talked, it was Thai cuisine, Philip Glass and Arts and Crafts furniture. What is it now?”
“Well, I’m still partial to cloth, but Bree likes paper,” Dirk said.
“True, Honeylump, but don’t you think the new Pampers have rendered Huggies passe?”
An argument ensued. It ended when Dirk poured grape juice on the Huggies and Pampers to test their absorbency. The juice went right through both of them and left a screaming violet stain on the mauve-and-wheat rug that Bree had found to go with the Shaker rocking chair.
I left as Bree let Dirk have it right between the eyes with the Spray ‘n’ Wash. On my way out, I couldn’t resist checking the garbage. After all, it’s legal now.
That’s when I found the following printout addressed to “No. 56477, That Special One Computer Club”:
“Dear Big Bored Daddy, I am a 22-year-old red-haired, blue-eyed baby into Hakka cuisine, Windham Hill and Japanese cinema. Would love to play house with you. Contact me on your P.C. That Special One No. 44569.”
An ill wind blew through Weeping Willow Hollow, and it said: People who live in restored Victorian houses shouldn’t own clones.