What Could Go Wrong?

So the day of the debutante ball dawned rainy and cold. As provisional chairman of the 2004 Debs (easiest job of them all), I felt like my committee chairs had done their jobs wonderfully and NOTHING COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG NOW. Hubris.

I’d arranged hair and make-up appointments for Claire and myself with Marja Webster (makeup artist par excellence) at Borelli’s in Beverly Hills. Decadent, but a very special occasion (I rationalized). Looking FABULOUS! we stopped at In-and-Out for lunch prior to my planned dropping her off at Oakmont for her 4:15 photography appt. It was then 3:30. The debs were all going arrive for their photos appointments and then change back into sweats to hang around and await the ball at 6:30.

While chowing down, Claire asked “The families weren’t supposed to be at the photo appointments too, were they?” “Oh no Honey. I’m SURE I would remember THAT.” A few minutes later, “Mom? Why don’t we call Mrs. Mathison and just make sure.”

That’s when the planets all started to line up for us. #1: Karen Mathison WAS home and she said “Yes of course the families are included in the photos sessions.” So we ditched (in a suitable litter receptacle) the burger remnants and flew to Oakmont to drop Claire, her dress, shoes and petticoat. On the way I celled Royal who (#2) had just been rained off Anandale and (#3) had our son Connor with him. He told me our youngest daughter, Faye, was at “Polar Express” with Carol and Grace Amico so I celled them and (#4) they’d just left the theater and would drop Faye at home. Royal celled home to discover our Italian exchange student, Carlo, was just getting ready to leave so he redirected him into the shower with the same instructions to all the kids to “Dress FAST!”

I arrived home to discover my cousin Alan had driven in from Palm Springs and (#5) encountered NO traffic and so was here two hours early. He and I dressed in 5 minutes, and we were on the rainy road back to Oakmont. In the car Carlo wondered about Claire’s escort, David Bennet. Wasn’t he supposed to be in the photos too? DRAT!!! I admitted he’d called while I was changing and I’d stupidly told him I was too busy to talk and I’d see him at the reception at 6:30. Dead silence in the car. Everyone was just overwhelmed by my ineptness. So we celled him too and left a message saying “COME NOW!”

At Oakmont the photographers were good natured and flexible, the shoots were fine, David called to say he’d gone to the gym after I’d basically told him to, but he’d get there asap, he did and they photographed him without a word of protest. Now all my screwups were behind me and I could relax. That’s when Claire arrived, back in her sweats, to ask, “Mom. Where are the place cards for the tables?” ARGHH!!!!

Royal had gone back to LCF to pick up his mom so we celled him again to say please pick up placecards at Hallmark, too. About a minute later Karen Mathison strolled leisurely up and announced to the group, “I have a lot of extra placecards here. Anybody need any?” The graceful arc I effected as I threw myself through the air to snatch them out of her hands, well it was Olympian. So we celled Royal to cancel that last errand.

And then it was finally over, once again everybody had saved me from myself and the evening proceeded like clockwork. I did have a lot of anxious moments as each dad promenaded his daughter around the dance floor, danced the first ritual waltz and then handed her over to her escort for their first waltz. Those dad’s and escort’s shoes came perilously close, a million times, to treading on the sweeping white ball gowns. I suddenly realized there was a VERY GOOD REASON why the gowns were required to have sleeves or real straps, not spaghetti straps.

Think about it.