’V’ is for Vixen

A day in the life of the V’s—the preferred single letter description of the Vixen Volunteers—who have been friends for over sixty years, is quite jam packed.

These eighty and ninety year old New Yorkers—from Park Avenue to Park Slope, from Great Neck to Gramercy, and from Soho to South Hampton— took full advantage of what the city had to offer.

Their days began by checking for any new text activity in their private Instant Messaging chat group—’V’ is for Vixen.

Then on to sipping a beverage (coffee, tea, hot water with fresh lemon, or ice water with Metamucil – hmmm) while reading the local and hometown obituaries found in those physical newspapers they had delivered, scoping out local ads that remind them of their youth, as well checking for familiar names from a lifetime ago. Why they were so interested they really didn’t say but Beulah joked “it’s to make sure our name isn’t in there.” Old people humor, I guess. 
 
Then on to shopping. Once they discovered that they could browse and buy elaborately gift-wrapped items from their favorite stores, without having to leave the comfort of their homes, they were hooked. They were as proficient with apps on the iPhones as they were on their computers. No more bothersome and bossy personal shoppers either, imposing their own ideas while charging a pretty penny for the privilege. Not for them!

Now there would be more time for life’s earned indulgences—♦️pampering at the spa,
♦️beautifying at Sephora, ♦️styling at the salon,
♦️in-home massages
♦️lunch with the ladies,
♦️afternoon tea in the fanciful trompe l’oeil room at the Taj,
♦️pre-dinner libations around the famed Round Table at the Algonquin,
♦️’connecting’ over cocktails (wink, wink) at Piperno’s,  
♦️dinners at Delmonico’s,
♦️Broadway show matinees, ♦️high stakes Mah Jongg and dim sum at The Pagoda Club
♦️duplicate bridge at The Metropole, the most private and prestigious of all private clubs, noted for the most hilarious, irreverent plaque hanging outside the room’s entry door: “Good sex is like good bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” So said Mae West;
and finally,
♦️walks in the park with their miniature furry friends —Poopsie, Tinkerbelle or Pee-Wee (most appropriately named—just ask the carpet cleaning service they have on speed dial). 
 
Some of the most fun was when they trolled the senior dating sites looking for God only knows who or what since, more than likely, they would never actually go out on a date—or would they?  And if they did, they’d surely never admit it. 

And then, to top it all off, after an exhaustingly busy day, home! Just before having a relaxing soak in the tub, there was the anticipation and wondering if the doorman will be bringing any packages from Tiffany’s or Chanel or Saks or Bloomies—or even a basket filled with favorites from Zabar’s. The enjoyment was akin to Christmas morning when ‘presents’ were opened—even if these were ones they themselves had ordered.
 
But today was very different.

When no further information about Eva, or her ‘previously preplanned event’ mentioned in the posted notice of her death could be learned, they decided to keep their scheduled appointments and activities—although with a heavy heart—as much as an obligation than as a distraction from thinking about the fact that one of their forever friends had died.

As for the origin of ‘the event’ they were IM-ing about—the ladies were correct. The idea for Eva’s Grande Finale really began seven years earlier at an after-funeral get together at their favorite bistro, the story of which they themselves refer to as the
Pee in Your Pants at Piperno’s moment, when a little spark of an idea took hold of Eva’s imagination and seemingly never let go. They remembered, and occasionally spoke of it, but never, in a million, trillion years could they have predicted just how grand Eva’s Grande Finale event would turn out to be.

Later that afternoon, the V’s finally opened the invitation, hours after the flabbergasted Fonteyn, et al, were shown what was about to be published for the world to see.

It was vintage Eva—equal parts audacious, affectionate, and impossible for anyone to ignore.

Scribbled🖌️by Simone,

🖌️The Serendipitous Scribe
©️MMXXV Simone Miller