Gatsby is a Middle-Aged Persian Doctor
I went to a mind-boggling affair last night at a house that was right out of the Great Gatsby.
Sarah's college friend had a baby boy, and her parents hosted the bris at their home out on the north shore of Long Island. The house was tucked into a labyrinth of tiny roads the size of babbling brooks, and lay right on Long Island Sound. I got a whiff of the affair's caliber very early on, when I saw the small army of deferential Asian men in matching white coats (in 90 degree weather) lined up behind a valet parking sign. They were there, it seemed, to artfully pack the fleet of luxury vehicles (and my Honda) along the sides of the expansive driveway.
Speaking of driveways, theirs was longer and wider than any street we took to get there, and lined by tall evergreen trees that completely blocked out the landscape. Suffice to say, it fit the 200+ cars, and still left room to feel like our three minute walk up it to the house was a desolate one.
The house. First, let me get the big ticket items out of the way - an indoor lap pool and accompanying hot tub, an outdoor lap pool, tennis courts in the front, and an acre or two of land in the back that sloped gently down to the water. A tiered cobblestone-and-brick patio that ran the entire length of the grounds, a boathouse and a modified gazebo with an almost unnoticeable little fish pond nestled up against it.
The decor. Sarah's friend is Persian, which meant the decor was considerably less... subtle than I was used to - gold-encrusted wood paneling, tons of pre-Raphaelite paintings ensconced in lavish gold frames, an antique French piano, oversized antique tables adorned with painted vines and roses, and statues of cherubs, some of whom appeared to have been captured en flagrante delecto.
The crowd. Out of the 500+ people there, Sarah and I were two of maybe 5 white folks - and all of us were underdressed. Everyone else was Persian, suave, and in decked out in tailored suits or skimpy, sexy, summer dresses.
Instead of applauding or huzzahing, Persians do this sort of sharp vocal trill that sounds like, "Lee lee lee lee lee lee lee!" So, when the bris began, and the family walked in with the baby, the crowd erupted in a chorus of these trills that nearly knocked me out of my shoes.
The food and drink. Well-stocked bars in every corner, seared, pepper-crusted ahi tuna, roving waiters with obscenely good hors d'oeurves, a large table in the center with every fruit under the sun, and tons of middle-eastern cuisine I'd never heard of. Off to the sides, were even larger tables with silver trays that presumably contained the main course(s). The trays still had not been opened three hours into the event, and Sarah and I had to leave. So, I can only imagine what delectables lay inside of them.
It was definitely an experience.
I went to a mind-boggling affair last night at a house that was right out of the Great Gatsby.
Sarah's college friend had a baby boy, and her parents hosted the bris at their home out on the north shore of Long Island. The house was tucked into a labyrinth of tiny roads the size of babbling brooks, and lay right on Long Island Sound. I got a whiff of the affair's caliber very early on, when I saw the small army of deferential Asian men in matching white coats (in 90 degree weather) lined up behind a valet parking sign. They were there, it seemed, to artfully pack the fleet of luxury vehicles (and my Honda) along the sides of the expansive driveway.
Speaking of driveways, theirs was longer and wider than any street we took to get there, and lined by tall evergreen trees that completely blocked out the landscape. Suffice to say, it fit the 200+ cars, and still left room to feel like our three minute walk up it to the house was a desolate one.
The house. First, let me get the big ticket items out of the way - an indoor lap pool and accompanying hot tub, an outdoor lap pool, tennis courts in the front, and an acre or two of land in the back that sloped gently down to the water. A tiered cobblestone-and-brick patio that ran the entire length of the grounds, a boathouse and a modified gazebo with an almost unnoticeable little fish pond nestled up against it.
The decor. Sarah's friend is Persian, which meant the decor was considerably less... subtle than I was used to - gold-encrusted wood paneling, tons of pre-Raphaelite paintings ensconced in lavish gold frames, an antique French piano, oversized antique tables adorned with painted vines and roses, and statues of cherubs, some of whom appeared to have been captured en flagrante delecto.
The crowd. Out of the 500+ people there, Sarah and I were two of maybe 5 white folks - and all of us were underdressed. Everyone else was Persian, suave, and in decked out in tailored suits or skimpy, sexy, summer dresses.
Instead of applauding or huzzahing, Persians do this sort of sharp vocal trill that sounds like, "Lee lee lee lee lee lee lee!" So, when the bris began, and the family walked in with the baby, the crowd erupted in a chorus of these trills that nearly knocked me out of my shoes.
The food and drink. Well-stocked bars in every corner, seared, pepper-crusted ahi tuna, roving waiters with obscenely good hors d'oeurves, a large table in the center with every fruit under the sun, and tons of middle-eastern cuisine I'd never heard of. Off to the sides, were even larger tables with silver trays that presumably contained the main course(s). The trays still had not been opened three hours into the event, and Sarah and I had to leave. So, I can only imagine what delectables lay inside of them.
It was definitely an experience.
posted by isaacjosephson at 8:22 AM
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