Family—
One thing I love about coming home every Steeplechase/Swan Ball weekend is that it gives me great quality time with the entire family, and it's a nice interval between Christmas visits. And with new Nephew Leland, I want to be around as much as possible.
I took Emily and Leland to lunch at Bread & Company and we had, as they say, a time. I played "Mac" for the afternoon, which meant I was a blur of cleaning spills, following mad toddler dashes, and fetching toys and utensils in a constant fling fest. I brought Leland a straw for his milk, and only after thought to ask his mother "Can he use a straw?"
"I don't know. He never has. You can try it."
To marginal success. And total cuteness.
I also entertained Leland while Emily vainly sought a new top for race day next door.
Seriously, again with the cute.
Doting Uncle Wilson will stop with the nephew photos now. After this one:
The Iroquois Steeplechase—
Always awesome. This year the weather cooperated and EJ invited me to her party tents, and Sinclair and Ellen invited me to be a hat judge for Nfocus.
A lot of the day can be best photo-blogged.
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To those who wondered, where does one where salmon pastel pants? The south. The races. Question answered.
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Approaching the grounds, and more racewear in context.
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(The Hardcastle race cocktail cups were a gift from Joe Calvin many years ago.
Both pictured at left.)
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And of course there was the usual eye candy.
The hat judging was fun, but it turned out that I was the only judge who took it seriously. I was asked to do a pretty high profile job,and I was going to do it well. My co-hort, little did I know, were more of the mindset "let's get this shit done and finished so we can drink and socialize." I would have been okay with that too. But noooooo. I didn't know it was such fluff filler and anted to prove myself, so I got all Tim Gunn about it and took copious notes as to style, line, fabrication, age and situation appropriateness, use of color, skill, and accessorizing.
And frankly, I did a damn fine job. As did the bonnet bearers.
When it came time to compare notes, I had ample opinion, and the experience and vocabulary to support them. This one woman I felt was being contrary and aggressive merely for the sake of being contrary and aggressive. As the newest judge, I demurred for a while,until she pushed me too far and I politely pushed back. Especially since her favorite hat was the most God-awful thing I had ever come across, and I hang out with drag queens who, at times literally, pull fashion out of their asses.
She asked me, "Now who are you?" Replying with confidence and an air of I know what I'm talking about, I said "I'm a designer from San Francisco. Who are you."
"I know fashion."
Me, aside, "Then why are you dressed like Mrs. Roper?"
My GOD this woman was ugly in face, voice, and dress and I have no idea why she was participating. Her best friend took me aside to apologize on her behalf. After making reconciliation on her part because she was too rude to do it herself, the friend explained, "I know she is being difficult. I've had to tell her to fuck off twice today."
Oh Lordy. The F-bomb at the Steeplechase. My word. That took me aback a little.
But all in all the hat judging was great fun, and I've been invited back again with the promise of no Mrs. Roper.
I did not agree with the "winner" as I felt the whole ensemble embarrassing, but it turns out there are unknown criteria among the judges that sometimes ugliest is "best." However the winner was so, so terribly excited I would never want to do anything to dull her experience and her memory of that honor.
My favorite hat by far: in context, age-appropriateness, quality, construction, and style belonged to the newly wed Mary Spotswood Underwood, who picked up the hat in London for the occasion.
Mary had just the weekend prior married Joseph. Gotta love that.
A final note on the hat judging: you would not believe how many men offered me large sums of cash to fix the win. I have no idea how ethical I need to be for a silly hat competition, but I did politely decline.
There is nothing like a day at the races. Friends, family, socializing, sunshine, fashion and cocktails.
Of course, walking with a cocktail in hand for six hours in the south sun has it's dangers. I applied plenty of sunscreen to my scalp and face.
I totally forgot about "cocktail burn."
(Others had it much worse.)
Complete Flickr set here!
And Hunt Ball photos here.
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