My New Year’s Eve Tale:
For reasons forever unexplored and unexplained, as a young girl I became fixated on the 1930s “The Thin Man” movies.
That being so, I grew up thinking that every New Year’s Eve, like Myrna Loy, I would put on a gorgeous frock with thin straps and ruffles and host a glamourous New York City party full of laughter and clinking martini glasses, while my tuxedo-clad husband (I married Bill Powell, of course) mixed the drinks.
The truth is that I live — happily — in the back woods of Vermont and have never owned an evening dress, much less one with thin straps and ruffles. I don’t even own a regular dress. And I’m married to a bearded newspaper guy who doesn’t own a suit, much less a tuxedo. And we mostly stay home on New Year’s Eve,
Last night, as if reading my mind,Turner Classic Movies hosted a Thin Man marathon. There was host Robert Osborne in a tuxedo with a champagne glass in his hand, and there for the taking were the gowns, the glamour, the parties — and the murders to be solved.
I spent New Year’s Eve very happily on the couch under a down quilt, reliving all the New Year’s Eves I never had.
Happy New Year, Everyone!