I am now a Lady Who Lunches, which is not to be confused with Adam Sandler’s “Lunch Lady Land,” a lady of a whole ‘nother breed. Not that there is anything wrong with lunchladies, mind, but I confess to being thankful that the role of a Lady Who Lunches does not call for wearing a hair net. Or comfort shoes, for that matter, the ones that old ladies wear who have problem feet.
I had concerns about attending this particular lunch. See, it’s Restaurant Week here in Newport, which means that all the restaurants have decided to come up with a three-course prix fixe menu for both lunch and dinner, and offer it at a standard rate — $16 for lunch and $30 for dinner. My friends have been talking up this particular restaurant to me for months, but we just hadn’t gotten there yet. It’s not child-friendly, for one thing, and we’ve got Mary Ellen now. When I spoke to my friend yesterday about going, she informed me I needed to dress nicely. NO JEANS.
NO JEANS? I am a stay-at-home mother who just had a baby! NO JEANS?!
So I tore apart my closet and finally found a pair of black dress pants* that fit fairly well. The pockets gape a bit since my hips are significantly larger than my waist, but my blouse hid that flaw for the most part. I felt dressed appropriately for the occasion — conservative, yet young and fresh.
Of course, being possessed of a sparkly personality, I couldn’t just wear my dress trousers with my purple blouse that looks like it’s really a shell with a cropped sweater. Oh, no. For one thing, I had to add my gold velvet flats with the bling on the buckle. And for another, I had to wear purple eyeliner. I’ve got this lovely, lovely pinkish purpley eyeshadow that Angela gave me for my birthday, and the purple eyeliner goes swimmingly with it. And with a purple shirt… well, you see where this is going.
I like to think it all came together well. I even de-furred my Dream Coat, the black confection I picked up at Off Saks Fifth Avenue last spring. I was feeling fine, as they say.
Let me tell you, I was so glad I opted for the dressier wear. The restaurant is in one of the mansions along the Cliff Walk, and you’re struck by the opulence just pulling into the parking lot. A valet darted out of the front door as we pulled it, but we chose to ignore him. No point, really, to opting for the valet — the parking lot was rather empty, as the season won’t begin till at least May. Walking in to the restaurant, we were greeted by no less than two waiters? hosts? Not sure what they were, but there were two of them. The one thing that really struck me from the first moment was how many service people there are. This wasn’t a place with one hostess to seat you and one waiter to take your order and bus your table. There were almost as waiters/hosts as there were guests. As I approached the table, one waiter even pulled out my chair for me — which is a first. And then he took my jacket for me! Fancy.
Lunch was a success and a utter delight. The food was amazing, the drink divine, the company entertaining. And the view! I stared out over the Atlantic Ocean all during my lunch. How could it possibly get any better?
Tomorrow I’m up for another Restaurant Week luncheon, this time with another local friend. We’re going to hit up another place I haven’t yet been to yet, a French-American bistro, according to the website. It seems far more casual than today’s restaurant, so I think I will be just fine in my dark-rinse jeans with a nice blouse and my gold flats, again. Have to wear my gold flats. They are cute, yet comfortable. I only wish I had a pair in every color!
But they were one of those purchases where there’s just the one left, and it’s clearance at Old Navy, and there’s no way to get hold of more. So I will wear them till they fall apart, I love them so much.
Ideally I need a comfy pair of black heeled boots. But see, I have an extra wide foot and a very wide calf, due to my overweight status. I have found a few that look awesome, but I need to save my pin money up for a bit first. They ain’t cheap, friends.
But I guess I wouldn’t have to hem my jeans anymore, would I? So these boots will end up saving me money in the long run, yes? Hmm. Might be time to buy those boots after all.
“These boots are made for walkin’, and that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.”
*I heard on BBC Radio 1 earlier this week that “pants” in the British lexicon really refers to what we Americans would call “underwear.” Is this true? I say, “pants” all the time, unless I mean jeans. I never once will say “trousers,” unless I mean my husband’s lower half of his uniform. The djs were cracking up because the singer they were interviewing, from Franz Ferdinand (I had no idea they were British, shockingly enough), said his favorite thing to wear right now is green velvet pants. Bwahahaha! But then the poor guy specified he had an American girlfriend who had corrupted his speech, and he really meant a pair of green velvet trousers.
Really. Like that’s any better.