Just came back from mingling with the rich and famous in Beverly Hills. No really. It was a high-end professional networking event a block away from Rodeo Drive where couples strode in looking like they belonged on the front of a Brooks Brothers ad. My friend knows a friend who knows an up-and-coming restaurant entrepreneur who invited us to join the summer garden party---the annual dues for the event are 40,000. I guess they put it to good use; as a member you get a bright orange box of custom chocolate and specialty tea as a party favor.
So of course I went with my friend to secretly gawk, pass out business cards, and attempt to look like I too owned beachfront property in Santa Monica.
Okay not to digress, but you know I love my fashion. I have to say, when people have that much money (like Beverly Hills money status) they definitely look like it. I was highly impressed with the California chic everyone seemed to so effortlessly convey. During the ceremony I noticed the men had totally all gotten the same memo--- fitted blue suits, paired with Prada loafers. Women’s fashion was a little bit more all over the place--but fitted white anything won out. Oh! And spray tan. Of course--it is Beverly Hills after all.
Now I truly love high end products, hotels, fashion--you name it. I have my fair share of luxurious items. But I think all of those things are meant to enhance our lives, not define it.
My friend’s friend encouraged me to make up a fake business if someone asked me who I was. It’s okay--I can be a nobody for the evening.
So of course I was approached. It went like this--no hello, no small talk chitchat. I guess they like it straight up in Beverly Hills, no chaser:
Mr. Beverly Hills: So, what do you do again? (looking for gold nametag)
Mr. Beverly Hills: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. okay. Hmmmmmmm.(Awkward silence)
Mrs. Beverly Hills: So, you are who again? (business card out, prepared to launch)
Me: We’re just up from Orange County. Here with a friend. I’m a teacher.
Mrs. Beverly Hills: Long drive (goes off to get a Mojito).
As soon as we walked out of the garden party and walked across the street I gleefully pulled off my 3 inch heels and walked barefoot down the boulevard. It was the wierdest feeling but I don’t think I was ever so grateful to climb into my Hyundai Elantra in my life. Since we were already up in Los Angeles, my friend, who is also an English professor like myself, and I drove to Venice, California to visit a mentor professor at his home.
Mr. Roth: Where were you guys?
Me: Up in Beverly Hills at that networking mixer thing
Mr. Roth: Annnnnnd…how was it?
Me: Pretentious and over the top…oh my flipping goodness
Mr.Roth: So you came to hang out with me, a peasant tonight?
Mr. Roth: Hold on. I have something for you guys.
And then he ran into his cute little house and brought me out a huge stack of books as a gift for stopping by his house and my heart was filled with more joy than I had experienced all evening .
I was thinking about the events of the night as I drove home. I have decided my husband I are just simple people. Maybe in Beverly Hills we would even be considered by some as peasants. God has been kind and blessed us financially but we are by no means rich--and as two teachers we may never be. But tonight amidst the ultra-rich, and the Botox, spray tans, boob jobs, and swirling cocktails I was reminded
And the greatest of these is love…not money, but love.