We’ve known Cutlass and Bobo for years and there’s a world of difference between them. Cutlass has surface flash. He’s fond of wearing satin shirts and silk kimonos and alludes to a privileged past. Bobo shines through restraint. He only wears tailored anything by Brooks Brothers, a tradition passed down in his family from father to son. They have a penthouse in New York but they live here for half the year.
Last night, Max and I went to a holiday party at their home on the beach, Casa Rosa Azul (Blue Rose.) Their villa was built in the 1930’s by the Mexican film actress, Rosa Azul, beloved by all, but especially men. She was beautiful, talented and temperamental and hers was the perfect screen star name because cultivated blue roses are a symbol of love, prosperity, mystery, and the impossible. Little is known about her private life other than she had a secret lover she called “Him!” This mystery still makes a tantalizing tale. Of course, Cutlass and Bobo lap up every detail they can find about her like cats lapping up cream.
They’ve named rooms in the villa after her films. The great sala is the “Uvas en Invierno” (“Grapes in Winter”.) This room has a giant painting of Rosa Azul and is well lit by pin lights. The large terraza overlooking the ocean is known as “Noches en Acapulco” (“Nights in Acapulco.”) The master bedroom is named “La Puerta de Crystal” (The Glass Door.”) And so on.
Bobo is a party planner and decorator and provides only the best flowers, music, food and drink. His clients have, as Bobo refers to them, shadowy careers. These clients and their circle often meet mysterious deaths or disappearances but Bobo is immune. His clients’ wives would never let their cherished party planner and decorator be killed. There’d be hell to pay.
Sometimes Bobo’s clients have special events at Bobo’s viila and fly down for these galas. Max did all the catering for these affairs when we lived in the States and was able to easily buy gourmet items he wanted. But now, Max is aggravated because it’s hard to get them in Mexico. But Bobo reassures him, “I’ll make the supplier an offer he can’t refuse.” That afternoon, the items arrive at the villa by private messenger.
Of course Max couldn’t just make a few hors d’oeuvres for Bobo’s holiday party. He also created a three-tired tray stuffed with Beluga caviar, truffles, Maine lobster meat, Kobe beef and Scottish smoked salmon. Bobo literally jumped up and down with glee when he saw it.
When the party was in full swing, glasses tinkling, corks popping, music playing, Cutlass, aware all eyes were on him, made a grand entrance with the three-tiered tray, sparklers flaring on top. Everyone stopped to look in awed silence.
In front of the assembled guests, Cutlass, suddenly tripped on the hem of his gold, sequined kimono, and turned a perfect pirouette twice. He, the sparklers, the Beluga caviar, the truffles, the Maine lobster meat, the Kobe beef, the smoked Scottish salmon and the silver tray made a perfect face down landing on the Oriental carpet. The F bomb moved slowly across his lips.
Later, when he was well into his cups and feeling mighty sorry for himself, he said “shucks” and “ain’t” quite a few times and let it slip that he was born in Southern hill country.
Bobo, trying to cover for him, joked that Cutlass quit milking the cows on the family farm once he realized that milk stains satin.
For me, it was a party to remember. For Max, it was a party to forget. But Cutlass endeared himself even more to our hearts.
Stop by again next Wednesday! For now I send you Felizes Fiestas! Happy holidays!
Sending you warm breezes from across the Gulf!