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Casual obsersvances from a tea party

By J.A. HaglFebruary 22, 2017

Thoughts from a tea party
Thoughts from a tea party Pexels.com

Pivotal moments come in a variety of flavors—finding love, having a child, graduating, finding peace or stopping to wonder “what on earth is my life?” Mine was the latter and in all honestly, it was after a succession of very similar events.

I am wearing a sizeable black hat, a mid-calf length black lace dress, stilettos and dangly pearl drop earrings. It is midday Friday and I'm sipping soup out of a dainty cup at a Women’s League tea.

“What is my life?” popped into my head as my friend described the last dinner party I hosted, the brunch I had planned for the following day and my annual tea party. I couldn’t tell the lifestyle differences between the socialite housewives and me— a single 20-something who had dreamed of war reporting. After all, I am spending a traditional workday sipping champagne, drinking tea and eating a minuscule portion of chicken salad cradled in pineapple.

 

As much as I wanted to swap the pineapple with a butter croissant and double triple the chicken salad, the staunchly hierarchal ecosystem of women who lunch and fundraise is best observed in person.

As much as I wanted to swap the pineapple with a butter croissant and double triple the chicken salad, the staunchly hierarchal ecosystem of women who lunch and fundraise is best observed in person.

The loudest women tend to be lower down the food chain. The stoic older women, in dark Chanel tweed skirt suits, with pearls around their neck and diamonds overwhelming their hands, sit at tables in the center of the room. Chatter and occasional squealing surrounded the epicenter of calm. It’s easy to pick out who run committees; their attire is youthfully conservative and demeanor calculated. Even their hats, despite the invitation for extravagance, are relatively sedated.

Everyone picked up the correct silverware in unison, working their way through the light and calorie conscious meal. Desserts as petite as the main course and tea sandwiches emphasize the need for ladylike behavior. Ornate silverware, artwork, and Tiffany Blue boxes dotted the auction tables. A special guest appearance by a comedic magician was an attempt to liven up the appropriately proper event. He had a tough crowd, one that couldn’t quite hide their distaste with their polite laughter and slight smile like grimaces.

 “Have you considered getting more involved?”

“No,” I smiled politely. I have other priority like reconsidering what I should be doing with my weekdays and figuring out where I am going consume my next meal because I’m still hungry.

An uncountable amount of frivolous air kisses later, I ungracefully skip out of the country club. I devour a plate of chicken and waffle two hours later at a quaint, Wes Anderson themed restaurant. I used the wrong fork and felt great.