THE RICH AND FAMOUS

So yesterday, I went to this snooty charity event for Thanksgiving. Which I've mentioned at least a million times in the last week.

It was interesting to me because of the contrast.

When I left San Francisco, I was thinking how much I miss everyone there, and how much I miss--oh, just in general, my life there. But it's not like my life in London doesn't have its benefits.

Some of the benefits are:

1. I am better off financially here than I would be in the US

2. I have just the right flat, with just the right little setup (except for the fact that I need a cat)

3. I am very close to Europe, and travelling is easier from here

4. I get more time off here, which also makes travelling easier

5. I have a fairly good social life here

6. I get invited to events at which I get to rub elbows with the rich and famous

These are seriously the considerations I've kept in mind when thinking about moving back home. So naturally, I was not just looking forward to this event because of the general fun-ness of it all, but there was part of me that was deliberately contrasting it to the benefits of living back home.

Most of the evening went quite well. It was a black-tie event. I enjoyed the company of the friends I met up with there. Some of the lingerie models were *really* nice as well, and some of the male guests who stopped and chatted with me were nice, and got progressively nicer as they got progressively drunker.

At the end of the evening, the woman who runs the lingerie company came and started yelling at me. (Long story, had nothing to do with me at all, actually, I was just her target.) And, you know, I realised that she believes herself to be above people because of how much money she has and who her parents were.

My reaction, of course, was, "Are you mad? I'm an American. We are taught from a young age that the response to someone pulling class rank on you is to dump their tea in the harbor and start blowing things up."

The complete lack of respect I had for her, and the level of my unimpressedness was sort of surprising. I didn't really care whether or not she was looking down on me, and am not sure whether or not she was. But it dawned on me just how many people had tried in their lives to work their ways up the ladders of fashion or art or [fill in the blank] in order to enter the life and social circle of people like her.

So, suddenly, I was *so over* rich and famous people. It was transparent.

I thought about the friends I have in San Francisco, about why they're my friends, and about the sorts of people I would consider working to meet, to get closer to, to fit in with. I thought about the kinds of people who really *would* impress me.

...and these people are already my friends.

What an appropriate epiphany for Thanksgiving.