The 12 Hashtags of Christmas
Irina was actively trying to remain cognizant of the mandated 30mph speed limit signs while driving along the gated community’s Winter Wonderland themed streets. Her intent was to arrive at the luncheon twelve minutes past the actual time guests would be physically sitting down. This calculated maneuver would allow Irina to be considered fashionably late, instead of just plain inconsiderate. Besides noticing the obvious, such as numerous blowup figurines of snowmen in all sorts of sizes and a life size figurine of Will Farrell wearing green tights two sizes too small, Irina begins to focus instead on the much more tightly contained, hidden back stories. A quick glance from behind her latest Tom Ford’s depicted more than enough for her to have deducted what the precise age demographics were of all minors still residing in the household, and just how much money was really left over from the holiday budget. The Jones’s (yes, there really is a Jones on every block), must have done fairly well this year. The exterior lights were obviously hung by a top notch professional with not a single staple in sight. It was crystal clear that the matriarch of the Fam was most definitely throwing her weight around this season. No household consisting of all teenage boys would ever allow an outdoor nativity scene featuring the Virgin Mary holding coupons for local organic delis, along with several brochures featuring available nannies, all over the age of 60. This is just not something that anyone with a lot of testosterone would ever consider to be a necessary accompaniment alongside garlands and evergreens.
As the statuesque brunette strides into the seasonal soiree, while carefully adjusting her nude colored Chloe Marcie bag over her wrist, her thoughts begin to slowly filter over into Mom 101 territory. Why are the years zipping by at such a rapid pace? Irina almost drops her Iphone as she ponders the thought. She delicately saunters up the century old steps of the chicest and still most relevant country club in town, despite the “New Money” version conveniently located down the street. The forever young 40 year old is beginning to wonder if the ol’ adage really does hold true. Do the years really fly by as one gets older? It definitely did seem like just yesterday that she and her brood (all 2.5 DNA perfected kids) were saying their goodnights before their first day of the latest calendar school year. Has it truly been 4 months already? Yet, Irina was positive that she hadn’t aged a bit.
With a quick toss of her perfectly blown out hair, which carefully landed at just the most precise spot across the front of her left side which would allow for her profile to appear beyond ethereal, Irina’s 3 ½ inch (4 inches would have appeared to be trying just a bit too hard) Miu Miu pumps preceded her as she entered the main banquet room. Irina’s next few moves have been rehearsed so many times before that she could truly reenact them in her deepest Zen sleep. As she ever so carefully throws her head back, her perfectly kohl lined eyes, along with the most expensive smudge proof mascara offered at Sephora, have already memorized a complete 360 of the over the top soiree. Within seconds, every table seating, floral arrangement and dessert cart had been filed away inside the socialite’s flat ironed head. This was certainly not Irina’s first rodeo. (Maybe, this was a poor choice of words. Irina would rather be hung up and left indisposed before she was ever caught wearing a pair of urban looking cowboy boots, no matter what the price point. In fact, she was still holding a slight grudge after someone had the audacity to ask her if she might consider donning an outfit for some kitschy boutique, which considered turquoise fashionable, for a local daytime talkie. “Do I really look like that kind of girl?”) #Hautecouture
Luckily for Irina, she immediately zoned into a friendly face of a regular PTO member who was exuding a bit too much excitement for simply having been the recipient of a standard Christmas lunch get together with a room full of great accessories. Irina felt a slight tinge of pity for the newbie and secretly decided to consider mentoring the wannabe after the New Year. After all, no one should ever show up to a day event wearing denim or cotton. As Irina leaned in for the obligatory double kiss she spotted her future student’s true fashion faux paux, a French manicure. If Irina accepts this monumental challenge, she now realizes that she has her work cut out for her.
As far as 11:30 luncheons go, this one was nothing exceptional. The ladies of the club chose an extremely worthy recipient for the wrapped gifts that each woman was required to bring with them upon arrival, and the chicken this go-round came complete with a vegan, keto friendly béchamel. Those who were brave enough to go to the next level said that the tarte tatin melted in your mouth. Irina wouldn’t know because, despite the very appropriate portion sizes, just a few bites of the buttery crust alone would be cause to endure at least two extra hours of cardio. Seriously, who has time for that when there are still so many names left on the shopping list? Irina then factored in the cost of extra gym time vs. that perfect pair of mirrored Bulgari glasses that would expertly showcase her jaw line should she take the plunge and go for a French bob. After regaining her composure, she was just happy that the end of the event was about to conclude. So much to do and so little time!
As the Club’s antique Grandfather began to strike twice, the ladies all stood up and collected their belongings. As this was happening, it was a peculiar item that caught Irina’s wandering eye. Irina stood up straight, only too happy to accentuate her 5’8’ frame, 5’11 with heels, but who’s keeping track. She very methodically placed her hands over her St. John pencil skirt and began tucking in a tiny bit of the off white blouse into the slightly wrinkled garment after having to sit still for a couple of hours and pretend to eat. Every so often, she would hear her name called. She simply nodded because she had become completely entranced by something that, surprisingly, didn’t even sparkle, shine, or have a visible price tag. In fact, at first, there wasn’t a label in sight. “Hmmm”, she thought to herself. The black box looked semi familiar. Upon picking it up, the only visible word read, “Polaroid”. “Vintage,” she said to no one except herself. Despite knowing that this foreign object surely must belong to someone, Irina couldn’t help herself and with one silent swoop of her wrist, she had managed to place the camera inside her bag. This is why one should never opt for anything other than the classic, top handle satchel when attending daytime events. How could she have ever been able to have “borrowed” the curious artifact while carrying a Gucci Marmont?
Irina felt her pace quicken as she scurried out toward her waiting black Range Rover. As cliché and predictable as the vehicle had become, it was still easier to maneuver over the decked out Escalade. Surprisingly even to her, she felt horrible that she had just completed her first “Winona Ryder”. She did acknowledge to herself that she would be horrified if one of her ironed, pressed, and crisply starched uniformed offspring had thrown caution to the wind and come home with a swiped trinket that they found too irresistible from a Nordstrom Kids shelf. Too late now. Irina, keys in hand, began unlocking the driver side door, pausing only briefly, as the sun reflected on her 5 carat, emerald cut sparkler. Real estate pays well, she thought. As she readjusted her rear view mirror, Irina decided that she’d spend the rest of her day on her very own personal scavenger hunt. Instead of an Iphone capturing all of her ongoing memories, why not a true “Throwback Thursday.” Of course, one must share it all on social media, otherwise, there is zero proof any of it actually happened. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.
The following morning starts out just like any other. Irina begins packing organic veggie wraps, kale chips, and edamame into tidy, color coordinated planet boxes while managing to balance her favorite accessory tightly between her chin and ear, all the while making sure that the almost weightless device doesn’t scratch the surface of her platinum four-prong diamond studs. (Irina remembers all of the additional bedtime acrobatics she had to perform as she chased her dream of one upping her sister-in-law’s 3 carat weight. It seriously did put her thrice weekly yoga sessions to good use. Who knew the human body was capable of so much flexibility.) How anyone ever survived without 24/7 access to all things current was almost impossible for Irina to even begin to fathom. She had become so adept at speaking, typing, and swiping, that the only time she reached out for the use of a pen was to sign her name on a bill of sale face to face, instead of the use of a mouse.
Being that it is a Tuesday, Irina patiently keeps watch by the front windows. It is Jenny’s day for the morning car pool . When she sees the time, she begins to gather up satchels, backpacks, lunches, and gym clothes. “I added the lavender. You know, they say that it will help bridge you and your inner peace,” she tells her son. Irina continues chattering to know one in particular as she fumbles with her pony tail holder. A couple of minutes later, the whirlwind of voices and mayhem had officially left the house and would now continue being played out within the confines of Jenny’s SUV. The entire AM routine lasted precisely as long as it took for the first half hour of GMA to wrap up, before the final weather segment. Irina reaches for her cup of French pressed and takes a seat at the counter. Next up, a quick perusing of morning Facebook posts.
Despite Irina’s kids constantly chiding her about how Facebook is only for “old people”, the idea of mastering an entirely new social media platform seems daunting. Instagram will have to wait. So far, it’s the typical postings of the daily birthdays, Anniversaries, and what everyone ate for dinner last night. As she takes a slow, drawn out sip of her morning treat, her mind begins to drift off for a second. Did Susan really believe that her red wine braised short ribs looked so mouth watering that even Giada would be begging for the secret spice she used that added the extra heat? How could she not have seen how runny the mashed potatoes looked? As Irina was just about to reach for the last slice of turkey bacon not eaten by her pride and joys, she stopped and yelled out for her loyal companion to come and get it. It might do Susan a bit of good to swap the lump of potatoes for cauliflower. Just a thought.
After Sophie, who is supposed to be one of the newest hybrids in designer canines which was even mentioned last month in Page Six, inhaled the pseudo breakfast protein, she collapsed by Irina’s feet. The dog’s accompanying head rub lasts just about as long as it takes her mistress to scour her former BFF’s latest news, her husband’s first and second ex-wives accounts before topping it all off with a sneak peek at the elusive neighbor down the street who is strictly FB friend status, and nothing more. Then, just like that, the scrolling stops and Irina positions herself further back in her velvet tufted armchair as she carefully tucks her modern day Vamp pedicured feet securely underneath her. The object of her attention is no other than Tinsley, a friend of a friend of another friend who shares the same housekeeper. Well, well, well, Irina thinks to herself. “Someone is definitely giving it their all in attempting to up the beach vacays.” It does appear that white, continental U.S. sands are not going to cut it in October for Fall Break. In fact, Tinsley seems to feel that the sun’s rays aren’t quite as golden in Hawaii, either. No, Tinsley’s newly acquired glow is courtesy of the British Virgin Islands. As Irina studies the pic more closely, she begins to feel the slightest warm rush of heat creeping up from her temples to the middle of her perfectly poreless forehead. The final touch was Tinsley’s newly acquired double D’s. “This is simply too much! I don’t know what surgeon she went to, but obviously they were stuck in a time warp from the 80’s. Don’t they know that even Victoria downsized, (allegedly). As Irina begins to collect herself, she smiles as she brings the small screen closer to her face. The modern day suburban mom gathered up her gym card, let out a huge sigh of relief knowing that Tinsley had to carefully crop her new purchase to just below her bikini top. “I think today will be a “core” day”.
One last thing as Irina headed out the door. “I almost forgot!” The antique camera was soon going to bring into focus some very blurred lines. #Foreverfriends
Irina grabbed her back in vogue Fendi logo covered laptop and sat down in one of the few available seats left. Usually, PTO meetings were strictly the second Tuesday of the month, but being that this was the “best time of the year,” another get together was scheduled. Ever so casually, Irina extended her arm out and slowly began to release her midday contribution of carefully selected high dollar Magnolia Bakery cupcakes. Unfortunately for Irina, she quickly surmised that she was the benchwarmer on the team. At the epicenter of it all were two oversized boxes of Molly’s Cronuts that had been flown in from Dominique Ansel. If that wasn’t already enough salt to pour on to one’s wounds, the Queen of all “Try-Hards”, Suzie, who had accidentally overheard what Molly was planning on ordering as she was one isle over in Whole Foods a few days ago, began unwrapping her midday contribution. There it was, a box of Supermoon Bakehouse goodies, flown in from the opposite coast. It didn’t seem to register with Suzie that some of those sitting at the monthly PTO table might be averse to eating squid stuffed inside their high dollar croissants.
The meeting was officially underway and at the conclusion of Agenda Item III, a semi nervous Irina decided that now was as good a time as any to interject her creative idea of chronicling the PTO’s first ever “Week Before Christmas”, or in this particular case, “Week before Christmas Break.” As the last sentence escaped her subtly stained lips, thanks to NARS, Irina wasn’t sure if the eclectic group at hand was “In”, or “Out.” However, one by one, the members soon began to smile and nod as they unanimously gave Irina their enthusiastic support. Good. It was voted on, seconded, and even earned its own asterisk for next month’s minutes. The goal at hand would be to demonstrate that what is old is always new again. The precursor to the selfie was the first version of spontaneous pic taking, the Polaroid camera. “The sign up sheet is here,” Irina reminded all present, as she pushed the torn out notebook paper front and center. “Don’t forget to choose your when and where.” The overly eager participants couldn’t jot down their ideas and suggestions fast enough and before Irina could even fold the paper in half, all of the available time slots were completely booked with holiday cheer.
Irina was determined to be true to her word with this project and assured all those brave enough to participate that she would only post after PIC approval. The hope was that unlike the latest Iphone three prong camera, the visions would be seen through the eyes of more authenticity, a la Herb Ritts. In all honesty, this made more than a few middle aged Moms a bit weary. “What about trying to incorporate Facetune2 or FocalMark,” asked Tina? There were truly a few in the group who hadn’t seen an untouched image of themselves in at least two years. “Can we adjust the color to suit our surroundings,” Fiona begged, as she made a slight stomping of her foot with her newly purchased zebra Davis Boots? Irina began to suppress any hint of her irritation and managed to maintain a plastered on smile while fielding the list of demands being thrown in her direction.
First up, Nina. It suddenly dawned on Irina that despite all of the double air kisses and obligatory hugs, she knew very little about her forty something peer, besides of course, what was shared on Facebook. Nina’s home appeared very grand, perhaps a bit over the top, but nice in a predictable way. Almost as if on cue, the double doors magically opened up, preventing any actual physical contact between Irina’s knuckles and the Aleko iron. “Come on in,” cooed the first victim in her slightly Southern drawl.
The two women make their way toward the spacious kitchen and the hostess hasn’t stopped talking long enough to even mention the young child heard overheard screaming from the top of his lungs. He is now threatening to hold his breath until he officially passes out. “Oh, that is my youngest. He tends to be a bit dramatic.” Irina smiles as she accepts the steaming cup of espresso being handed to her. Nina is dressed in her ever present LuluLemon. Whether she actually works out or not is still debatable, but the recent legging purchase offers maximum Spanx support. It is about now that an Adonis looking young man casually enters the room and begins searching through the Meneghini Fridge and begins to complain how everything stocked inside it is overly processed. “I’m heading to the gym,” the God says as he leaves almost as quickly as he arrived.
“Wait”! Nina seems a bit too desperate, but begs her stepson for a quick pic. Her angle soon becomes quite apparent. The two fake a smile for the Polaroid and Irina takes the snap. As it slowly begins to develop right in front of her Kat Von D lined eyes, Irina begins to see a flash of reality that Nina probably doesn’t want to be exposed. As Nina begins discussing just how extremely proud she is of her blended family and the young Adonis visiting from Stanford, (“Don’t forget to mention the College name!), Irina sees the much more honest insight of two individuals who have had two conversations in an entire year. “Isn’t he gorgeous, to boot?” Nina can’t even contain her excitement as she begins posting a caption to go alongside her handsome stepson. “This only ups his image,” she laughs. Nina never forgets to include the prestigious Stanford name every time she shares a post. In the meantime, Irina finds herself at a complete loss for words and just continues to wave the developing picture side to side. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Maybe, it was the secret dash of kalua in her morning coffee when Hubby turned his back and headed for the door. The harsh reality is that Nina and her West Coast Ivy Leaguer won’t share another brief conversation again until summer break. #Blessed
Irina’s next stop was a Combo. She had volunteered to pick up some expertly wrapped Holiday gifts for the school staff while multi tasking and visiting with fellow member Lizzie. Irina briefly knew Lizzie through a neighborhood Bible study a few years back. Lizzie was cute in a non threatening manner but seemed to have difficulty separating fact from fiction, and all things in between. The two ladies had drifted apart somewhat, but Irina often read the spiritual quotes that Lizzie felt necessary to frequently share with her nearest and dearest FB friends, (all 1,000 of them).
Lizzie greeted Irina with a 20 second too long embrace and as they slowly began releasing their intertwined arms, Irina felt extra pressure along her hands. The devoted Sunday school teacher had quite a grip on her! “Irina, it has been far too long! I thought about you all last night and just how much I have missed our friendship. Truthfully, I almost feel that this little project of yours is a sign that we are supposed to get closer.” Irina smiles and nervously begins turning her head side to side as she too prays, for the visit to be almost over.