The Colour of Money
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
- What if God was one of us, Joan Osborne
Many years ago, a friend of mine passed me the programme for a debutante ball and asked if I knew one of the girls who was listed within, said to be going to my college. My first reaction was surprise that there were even debutante balls in Singapore. And, hey, who knew I knew gentry?
Yesterday, I was reminded again of the grand divide that separates the You-only-think-you-have, and the Really-haves. Not that there's anything wrong with it. Life's like that, and besides, my friend is a friend from yore, whom I adore because she is so genuinely sweet, so I don't feel like a freaking hypocrite for hanging out with her.
The do was great, lower key this time round, but still a do in every sense of the word. There were the socialites, the celebrities, and as I jokingly nicknamed my table - the unwashed masses. But we didn't stink too bad. Nothing that the smell of old money couldn't cover.
The unwashed at my table were close friends, so we had fun catching up, gossiping, and trying to identify the Tatler regulars in the room. We didn't have a post-do-do however, we were stuffed with food and wine and laden with a parting pressie, laziness got the better of us.
On the way home, I couldn't help but think about life on the other side of the tracks. This is the same darling friend who had wanted to introduce me to some bigshot legal eagle, with the caveat that conversion would be required as mummy dearest says only good little Catholic girls need apply. Haha. So if I wanted, I could pull a Charlotte, totally subjugate myself and have the chance to live the grand life of a tai-tai, sipping champagne cocktails by the pool, zipping around town in a fancy Lexus, attending charity functions, hobnobbing with the hoi polloi.
Hmmm.
Oh, calm down, I'm just kidding. I would never drive a Lexus.
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
- What if God was one of us, Joan Osborne
Many years ago, a friend of mine passed me the programme for a debutante ball and asked if I knew one of the girls who was listed within, said to be going to my college. My first reaction was surprise that there were even debutante balls in Singapore. And, hey, who knew I knew gentry?
Yesterday, I was reminded again of the grand divide that separates the You-only-think-you-have, and the Really-haves. Not that there's anything wrong with it. Life's like that, and besides, my friend is a friend from yore, whom I adore because she is so genuinely sweet, so I don't feel like a freaking hypocrite for hanging out with her.
The do was great, lower key this time round, but still a do in every sense of the word. There were the socialites, the celebrities, and as I jokingly nicknamed my table - the unwashed masses. But we didn't stink too bad. Nothing that the smell of old money couldn't cover.
The unwashed at my table were close friends, so we had fun catching up, gossiping, and trying to identify the Tatler regulars in the room. We didn't have a post-do-do however, we were stuffed with food and wine and laden with a parting pressie, laziness got the better of us.
On the way home, I couldn't help but think about life on the other side of the tracks. This is the same darling friend who had wanted to introduce me to some bigshot legal eagle, with the caveat that conversion would be required as mummy dearest says only good little Catholic girls need apply. Haha. So if I wanted, I could pull a Charlotte, totally subjugate myself and have the chance to live the grand life of a tai-tai, sipping champagne cocktails by the pool, zipping around town in a fancy Lexus, attending charity functions, hobnobbing with the hoi polloi.
Hmmm.
Oh, calm down, I'm just kidding. I would never drive a Lexus.
écrit cour marly à peu prés
2:48 AM
4 petits cadeaux:
i know what you mean.
i know exactly what you mean in a honest-to-goodness, been-there-done-that, wept-softly-into-my-pillow and kicked-the-wall-in-rage-until-my-toes-bled sort of way.
By
Cowboy Caleb, at 8/11/04 9:38 AM
No, you would be chauffered around in a Lexus.
By
Little Miss Drinkalot, at 8/11/04 9:55 AM
I loved what Charlotte did, ie. her conversion to a Jew. I doubt I'd do that for anyone.
By
FF, at 8/11/04 10:07 AM
Cowboy> I hope your toes are feeling better...
LMD> Ah, so true. So true.
FF> Charlotte's conversion was hilarious, "I'm a jew now."
By
cour marly, at 9/11/04 12:40 AM
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