High Class Documentary Production Company had a big bash last night, a combination wrap party for both High Class Medical Series and Big Flop Political Series. It was held at the Hollywood Hills home of Big Executive Producer Guy, and it was totally great. The house, for one thing, is amazing. It's not huge, but it's perfectly integrated with the landscaping, and it's just beautifully preserved -- all the original door knobs, for example, and the leaded glass in the kitchen cabinets were still in perfect condition. At one point during the party, Grant came over to me and hissed that I had to go to the bathroom. And I knew why he'd sent me as soon as I stepped in there: we're talking perfect, gorgeous, original tile. I may not have mentioned it here before, but I am all about bathroom tile. Original tile is my Holy Grail. Original tile and original windows -- why do people take out their gorgeous double-hung windows and replace them with cheap-o panes with plastic mullions? That is my absolute pet peeve. But everything in this house, really, was perfect. There was a mud room! And a library! And a balcony from the master bedroom overlooking the living room! Think of the dramatic arguments you could have with people if you had a balcony inside your house!
So the house was amazing, and the yard was incredible. There was a beautiful old swimming pool, and two lawns -- one with "a water feature," as Grant put it (that's a fountain, for those of you who don't read House and Garden regularly) -- and the whole yard was wired for sound. "These rocks are speakers," Grant said, when we went over to the bar to refill our booze. (Grant and I are very interested in decor)
So I really, really wanted to move in.
But getting up there was a pain. It's all the way at the Hollywood sign, basically -- I have literally never been that close to the Hollywood sign, and I grew up in Los Angles. It was like fifty feet away -- and you have to take all these very narrow, winding roads to get there. At one point, I came around a corner and was right in front of the yellow and red-striped house that Madonna owned about ten years ago. (Which also used to be owned, I believe, by Bugsy Siegel), which was exciting. But it took twenty minutes to get from Gower to the top of the hill -- which was probably only 2 or 3 miles up. On the other hand, if you lived in a fantastic house like that, wouldn't people come to you? You'd never have to go anywhere.
Even the food was good. It was from Cheebo, of all places. I had no idea Cheebo did catering, but how would I know, really? And even the cater-waiters were cute.
So, basically, the party was divine. I got to see a ton of people I've worked with in the past, and chat and gossip with all of them, which, as you know, I love. I didn't fall in the pool -- thank God -- and I did get to nose around this fantastic old Spanish-style Hollywood Hills house, and I love nosing around fantastic houses! And there was an open bar! And I left the party just in the time, because as soon as I got home, it started to pour down rain. There's nothing nicer than being cozied up in your bed as it rains, so I tucked myself in almost the instant I got home.
Lovely Saturday, all around. And now I've got to get out of my jammies and to the market, or I won't have anything to eat next week and then I will be cranky.
PS: Because I have worked with some lovely and thoughtful folks, I made my way home from the party with this in my possession:
Thanks, Person Whose Identity I Won't Reveal In Case the Passions Signage Police Come After You. But doesn't it look happy in my office?
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