Clyde is Immortalized

Clyde is in a New York artist's painting. Our friend Trista's friend Delia Brown is a painter who has been featured in W magazine, among others. She paints portraits of conflicted desire, featuring her friends and herself as her subjects. This series is called "Precious," and it is about women in their late 30s who are not mothers, and the ambivalent feelings therein. Interesting concept, for sure, and quite relevant to so many women we know in NYC. If you are in NYC, and read this, go see Delia's work at D'Amelio Terras Gallery. If not, google Delia Brown and learn more about her. She's fierce.

So Saturday night was the opening. We were invited because Clyde was one of the subjects in the paintings, posing with our friend Trista, who doesn't have children (yet?). There was a soft opening, on Wednesday, for subjects, including kids, with cupcakes and champagne. Saturday was the actual opening, for grownups, and there was a dinner afterward for the friends and subjects, at the gallery. Gribeca Pediatrics doctor Michel Cohen was there, and Cynthia Rowley's kids were in the show too. That's when I realized we were in good company.

Then there were drinks at the Beatrice Inn, this fancy lounge in the West Village where apparently celebrities hang out. It was awesome. There was a downstairs lounge where we had these fancy drinks, called "the West 12ths" that were mojitos made with vodka. Yum. Delia asked me to get her champagne and the bartender poured it from a little half bottle of champagne that was so adorable that I asked him if I could have the whole thing. He gave it to me, and I wanted to impress Delia, so I brought the bottle and two glasses to her table (her parents were sitting next to her) and I put one of the glasses into my cleavage and had her pour the champagne into the glass and sip it out of its nestling in my cleavage. It was good times, good times.