I would take a sable under the tree, that would most definitely please me. A duplex and checks – I’ll take it with two decks, and with a majority share in Tyvek, because what the heck, I wasn’t born yesterday. Santa Baby, hurry down the chimney to me. Eartha Kitt and Henri René sang this timeless classic for the first time in NYC in the summer, ironically, of 1953. Her timeless crooning in her low sultry voice makes her requests for a platinum mine, a 1954 convertible light blue, and a ring – not on the phone – totally acceptable, and somehow, feasible.
It got me to thinking about what my own outrageous list might include, and decided I should put it out there – just in case Santa was curious. After all, I’ve been an awfully good girl. Santa Baby – slip the deed to a two bedroom condo at the Lucas under my tree.
I’ll take an Areostream for all my “Glamping” adventures. An Eclipse 550 because commercial airline travel is …. disrespectful! I’ll take a Goyard Travel Trunk too – in blue, because you simply can’t land on the tarmac with duffle bag in toe.
A yard of diamonds from Tiffany, a bottle of Clive Christiansen “X” perfume, A Pied a Terre on the Left Bank, a driver, and a maid – she need not be live in, but she must do windows.
Santa Baby, I forgot one little thing – a Renoir with the authentication papers – a girl needs a little extra security to ride those volatile economic times.
May the magic of the season infect you with a childlike wonder and belief.