Last night we went to a cool Halloween party. You know--the kind you read about in magazines but never throw yourself and never get invited to. The kind in the hip underrated neighborhood you've never been to before, with the amazingly rejuvenated old house with original woodwork and stained glass, with eclectic, interesting artwork in every corner and on every wall because the owner works in the hippest museum in town. The kind where you've been told not to bring a thing, and none of the food is store-bought sandwich rings, appetizers, or desserts and candy, but interesting dips, fruit, pitas, and chips you wouldn't have thought of yourself but that everybody eats all night because they're so damned tasty. The kind where people mingle because they can't wait to go talk to the next person in that other room, not because they can't wait to get away from the diad they're trapped in. The kind where the host says, when asked, that costumes are optional, and more than half of us come in costume, and everybody has a great time with it. One of the coolest parts was a party favor trick I plan to steal for my future parties, though it went slowly enough that we never actually got ours: the host has a basket full of gifts wrapped with clues as to their contents written on the outsides of the wrappings. She gives the first gift to someone along with a button that designates them as "it." They then have to take another gift from the basket and find someone at the party who looks like they might enjoy the gift they've chosen, based on the clue written on it. Good game.
It was a lot of fun. This is one of those crowds we've fallen in with thanks to our friends Anne and Drew, whom we met through kismet, I think, and to whom we're now addicted. Many of their friends we meet through their monthly dinner parties, and we smile from deep inside when we see them again. Annie's brother Joe and sister-in-law Popie are high on that list; Popie came dressed as sort of a Halloween clown, with Coke-bottle glasses, makeup askew, crazy teeth, and orange-and-black clothes. She's one of those people to whom people gravitate like a moon, though; she may as well have come dressed like one.
Annie dressed as a mermaid, with sequins for scales, and looked stunning, her red hair swept up around her head and a velvety shawl trying its best to keep her bare shoulders warm. They were exhausted from apartment hunting, but knew many of us would hunt them down and kill them if they didn't show. They're our glue people.
I wish we'd taken my camera, so I'd have a picture from last night, but I didn't, so I don't. The best I have is a picture of Annie and me from Andrew's and my wedding five weeks ago; if I see pictures from last night, I'll try to remember to come back and update the post with something from then.