Love Among the Drones

Posted by Taki Theodoracopulos on June 21, 2007

Well, what can one say except they don’t throw parties like this one any more. The dress code was devilishly or angelically black tie. (Think horns and wings and other heavenly things). I, of course, went as an angel, but my wings snapped off just as I entered the beautiful mansion of Prince Pavlos of Greece. His wife, Princess Marie Chantal, had put a lot of time and effort in making his fortieth birthday a memorable one. Adjectives somehow become denuded of their meaning when one has seen perfection, as in the perfect party. European royals such as Prince Felipe of Spain and his sister Princess Christina, Prince Haakon of Norway and his wife, our own Prince Andrew and Lord and Lady Linley, the beautiful Gabriella Windsor and her brother Freddie, Prince Michael of Greece and princess Marina, their daughter Olga, and, of course, all the younger Greek royals, Nikolaos, Achilleas, Filippos, Theodora, and the birthday boy’s parents, King Constantine and Queen Anna-Maria of Greece. There were only about 200 of us for dinner, served in the garden masquerading as Heaven, with clouds of dry ice and ice sculptures of angels giving one an added incentive to try and live a good life in order to make it upstairs when the grim one calls.

MC, as friends of princess Pavlos call her, is a hell of a lady. She has had four children, runs a perfect house—make that houses—and also has a business of her own which is very successful. Her father, Robert Miller, is a billionaire but one wouldn’t know it by meeting him. Like all sailors (and he holds the trans-Atlantic record) he is simple and direct and has a sense of humour. He was the first to notice my wings had snapped, pointed up to the sky and asked me whether I was surprised. I was not, but what were stilt-walkers and erotic dancers doing in Heaven?

I sat at King Constantine’s table with two fellow Pugs members, Tim Hoare and Nick Scott. Arkie Busson, also a member, as is the birthday boy, all sat nearby. Pugs membership invites proximity. (More about the club later). The piece de resistance was MC’s surprise for her husband, a professionally made film tribute, one in which I had been honoured to take part. Alas, everyone was outshone by Nick Scott’s appearance—with beret, granny glasses and heavily accented German—as Herr Professor Wilhelm von Gimlet, the world’s greatest authority on graphology. On and on he went but I am unable to repeat some of the gems because I was laughing so hard at his accent and appearance. (“Und you should see off ze Luftwaffeplatz, ze omega, means ze comma is like leffink at Gott in himmel.”)

My very own piece de resistance came when I danced with Naomi Campbell, a beautiful, carnal, dangerous temptress, smouldering in her skin and luring me to pretend I’m Fred Astaire, however arthritic a Fred. This was taking place downstairs, where an impromptu nightclub had been set up on top of the swimming pool. Red coloured smoke, or my imagination, made me think of a Woody Allen type of Hell. Inspired by Naomi, I write: 

“The Glutton, gross in paunch and thigh,
Eludes the reaper grim,
Swollen of nose, and red of eye,
The Drunkard laughs at him.
The fund manager, the hack,
carelessly quaff champagne,
The pop-star lives for ever,
on pills, bimbos and cocaine.
Frustrated by this doleful news,
Death starts to feel unlucky,
he slings the Devil’s tripod fork ,
but only wings old Taki.”

Yes, yes, I know, but I do still have a hangover. Biggest effort and best costumes of the night, that’s an easy one. Tatiana Blatnik, Alexandra Schoenburg, Debonnaire Bismarck, Chantal Miller and Rolf Sachs. Best people to take one home in the late hours while tired and emotional, Leopold Bismarck and Tim Hoare. Happy birthday, Pavlos, and I can’t wait for your fiftieth.

And now down to serious matters. While some members were dancing the night away last week, Pugs club was being overwhelmed by more correspondence than the somewhat elderly secretaries can possibly cope with. More and more royals want in. Things are now at a point which is frankly ridiculous. The aforementioned Prince Pavlos openly announced that outside his beautiful wife’s incredible attention to detail and love which made for a remarkable forty, his election to Pugs stood alone as his most treasured gift.

This is when news came in that Count Bismarck, scourge of the candidates list and as ruthless as the Iron Chancellor, had, by way of marking the occasion of the birthday, given way to the election of Bopsi, the Maharaja of Jodhpur. He is the 8th member of the world’s most exclusive club, which caused a spot of bother. As the news was leaked, angry and disappointed candidates behaved disgracefully outside Pavlos’s beautiful premises. In the meantime, scenes of joy were reported from the state of Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India. Elephants, camels, carpet baggers, swords men, aged retainers of the ancient state, men dressed as monkeys, and monkeys dressed as men, polo fellows, painted ladies, fox terrier dogs, danced late into the night to the strains of Ravi Shankar and the Eton boating song. Also Colonel Bogie, the tune made famous in the masterpiece Bridge over the River Ganges.

The Maharajah, needless to say, is over the moon. “What am I expected to do?” telegraphed his highness. “Absolutely nothing,” went the reply. It is, after all, our club’s motto.

The Spectator.

Comments

Is there anything of substance in this article, because I think we’ll need one of those Japanese robot-duster’s to pick up all these names.

what was that , wo cares for them , the aristocrats,they are not even real aristocrats with the original meaning of the greek term. Who cares for them they have money girls and they live a luxurius life , i love taki but when he starts talking abou his cycle its ridiclous, . Greek royal family,they are germans are not they, they didn t put a drop of greek blood inside , and they are responsible for the loss of minor asia and the oustin of million of greeks and the death of more than 500000

Posted by THEO on Jun 21, 2007.
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No, there is nothing of substance here, but it is articles like these which make this forum distinct from, for example, Chronicles.  But I really think that Taki, the party animal of the millenium, needs to host one of these affairs for his rabble.  Mr. Zmirak, he of the off-the-wall Catholic recipes, could cater it.

That account was pleasant, and I’m sure the party itself was even more fun. I had a good time at a party last weekend, although Greek royalty and Naomi Campbell were conspicuously absent, to say the least. I applaud anyone who parties and has so much fun that he must talk about the party afterwards. With all the sad-sacks in the world, such accounts are a good thing.

Posted by Matt on Jun 21, 2007.
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It seems some don’t know or have forgotten that the Poor Greek Boy picks up spare obols as a gossip columnist, a very good one at that.

I love Taki, but sometimes his stuff reads like it was written by Elliot Templeton from Razor’s Edge.

Re: “I love Taki, but sometimes his stuff reads like it was written by Elliot Templeton from Razor’s Edge.” Posted by Hankest.  That’s a fairly strong bit to say, though an interesting comparison if you’ve read Mandolyna’s writing and her appreciation for the Bohemian/Beat style (see “Freedom Is For Fools” a month or so ago).  Could she be the Larry to Taki’s Elliot?  Surely not wholly so, as Elliot took himself seriously, and Taki keeps things light with a healthy dose of self-deprecation.

While gossip columns are my normal reading, I like Taki’s.  Black-tie parties are great; there are fewer ways to make a woman feel appreciated than dressing in a nice tux to take her out.  And spending time with fun, educated, cultured people is a joy. 

Seeing what is apparently a large portion of the regulars at the parties Taki attends inebriated by night’s end sounds like a situation that could cause nausea and headaches even for the teetotalers in the crowd.  Though, if Taki’s ever in need of a designated sober to tag along to one of these parties and get him into the car at nights end, I could make myself available!

To those who deride Taki’s fun, it might be well for them to remember the aphorism: “Living well is the best revenge.” It is the best because it is the least harmful, except perhaps to one’s own liver. And “when the wide world runs bias from our will,” what better to distract from our woes than a bit of innocent merriment?

I may not always agree with Taki’s stands, but the fact remains: he gets to party with supermodels, and that can’t be too bad.  ;)

With all due respect to SOME of our commenters:  Some of them (not all of them, but some of them) just don’t get it.  Taki is a poet.  He lives, and writes, with poetic license.  And he would do the same regardless of how much money he has or doesn’t have.

If Taki were a poor man, then, like the poor Stoic slave Epictetus, he would say, “When God (or the gods) offers a banquet to us, we should just enjoy it as much as we can - because it is all a gift.”

Or if Taki were as powerful as Emperor Marcus Aurelius (which Taki is not), then Taki would agree with Marcus Aurelius, that, “as vines give grapes, so men do good deeds for other men (without any reward) because it is their nature.”

So, on that note, in fair response to Taki’s poem, here is one (of many) sonnets of mine, written in a similar chivalrous spirit, to some ladies I have known and admired and sometimes loved, in the same spirit of Taki’s love for many good women:

No myths or tattered banners can contain
The fire that’s born of right and
fearful truths!
Whose tongue corrupts the humble -
and yet soothes
The heart whose honour
welcomes pride’s light stain!

Therefore, since you’re - well -
too headtstrong and loud
To speak of aught but honour,
and your fine
And righteous indignation: Borrow mine
Own tongue!  Far gentler, simpler,
yet quite proud,

To tell you what I fear you might have
missed
While trampling on the lips of those
who may
Have dared to shut you up?  Yes,
dare I say?
If you’d leave lips untrampled,
you’d be kissed!
So, Darling, cut the tired,
bombastic crap,
And once, for our lips’ sake: 
Just shut your trap.

But that’s just one of my more earthy, more vulgar sonnets.  I never share any of my most personal poetry in public.  And neither does Taki nor any Gentleman.

But the fact that Taki has created this place for us to write and to publish in romantic and idealistic ways, without fear, says a lot about Taki and what a generous gift he is giving to us here.

Not only is it a pleasure reading Taki’s celebrity gossip and his razor sharp opinions of some of them, it is a pleasure to read these observations. Taki has an intelligent readership.

John Ball -
You speak too soon friend.  You claim this venue allows a place where one can speak without fear, yet your sycophantish zealotry is quick to flash the sword at anyone who durst besmirch Sir Taki’s honor.  Such censorship as you consistently provide does not foster a vigorous debate, and you discredit yourself, with your obvious intellect, by playing the pet.

(In other words, RELAX!)

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<a href= http://cnn.com/2000/WORLD/europe/11/23/madcow.britain/ >Britain to check French beef</a>
http://www.parrotconnection.org/

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