PRINCE PIERRE VON YORQUEE REQUEST YOUR ATTENTION MILLIONS IN FOREIGN BANK BUT BUY US NOW DRINK PLEASE!

So it’s ten o’clock at night and I would normally just be getting ready to go out for the evening but after a hectic day starting with a phone call from Miss Vero (having a meltdown over using a Blow torch to de-ice the windshield on her new Bentley this morning) and having two mimosa’s for breakfast, meeting the hunnies for martinis for lunch - I’ll tell you I was stuffed, since I ordered six olives instead of my normal four!

Miss Vero wanted to interrupt my pre happy hour nap to do some shopping. She found the best, absolute unbelievable little shop in town called “HAUTE MESS”! It is the cutest, funkiest little boutique that has ever hit town and leave it to Miss Vero to get the word out. First of all, it is a little piece of heaven in it’s décor and merchandise. New and Vintage mixed like a perfect martini and too cute for words. Style and sophistication that made us feel like we were transported to a big city, if only just for a fabulous moment. I bought the most stunning studded blazer which I have been wearing non stop and well, you’re just going to have to find out for yourselves. Go visit Amber and Nicci at 1916 14^th Ave nest to the French Quarter or check out their website:

HauteMess.com
















It is very difficult to keep up with Miss Vero and most mere mortals cannot. So, I decided to take my uh-um “sinus” medication and we hit the Cobalt room for the best happy hour and I proceeded not to eat my olives, I figured hey, I had a big lunch. Then, after driving around town in Miss Vero’s newly windshield-less Bentley, yelling four! out the window at everyone playing golf around town and explaining to the cops that the open container law does not apply to a chauffeured vehicle and anyway by the time he came up to the window I had already chugged the rest of the champers in site. Since I wasn’t driving, I very matter-o-factly told him that I can’t be bothered with this little indecent exposure problem that he was trying to arrest Miss Vero for and I explained at this point, we were very late for an evening of fine libations and exquisite (and by exquisite I mean extremely drunken and bad) dancing at what the “Word on the Rue is” the hippest new place (well only new place) in town, Joey’s.

So we arrive to the door to what seems to be a gaggle of bouncers checking I.D.’s, everyone’s I.D., including the oldest lady in existence Miss Vero, which I find comforting since I don’t like to go to jail R. Kelly style. We entered into a wonderful play land of debauchery at its finest. Now the first thing that I noticed, after I got my martini of course and my eyes started to adjust to the ever pulsating lights from the dance floor, was that wait a sec people in Vero Beach do know how to dress. What, have my prayers been answered? I mean really, not one boat show is sight? I think maybe three shirts total didn’t have collar and only five of the collared shirts were polos. It was the twilight zone of Vero fashion, a parallel universe one might say. Has this little Fashionista finally found a place in this town where he doesn’t stand out like a sore thumb as the best dressed person in Vero? I am not saying I wasn’t the best dressed because I was, I am saying that wow there are people in this town who know and care about what they look like. This got me thinking. I have lived here almost all of my entire live, except while attending fashion design school, and I only know a third of these people. Everyone and I mean 99.8% of everyone here doesn’t just dress well but is extremely attractive. I don’t mean extremely attractive in the way that I forgot to eat dinner but am now of my fourth dessert. Come on people, I have been doing the martini diet since I could eat, but actually attractive and all appear to be of somewhat affluent descent or professionally upward mobile on their own.

But regardless of trust fund status or not as the remixed Lady GaGa come over the speakers. Our good friend (and distant relative) Miss Vivian Von Voot, FINALLY shows up, so much more than “fashionably late” and we can no longer control our self running out to the dance floor. In true Viv style she finds the cutest boys in room, gay, straight and otherwise to dance with us… God I love her! So after having a little work out Miss Vero and I go out back to warm up and throw another cigarette on the fire and have very intellectual conversations about politics where everyone didn’t have the overly “conservative” point of view and would actually listen to what other people had to say.

Miss Vero, in her true Royal way, holds court and counsels. There were young real estate agents, pre med students, pilots, and all around people who were actually going to accomplish something other than becoming a good old boy like their fathers or having five babies before twenty, like most of the people do in these parts.

After much needed and refreshing conversation and the best networking done in one place imaginable, I suggest to Miss Vero that we head off our traditional toxic hell run, since we don’t need to be wasting gas and driver might just get mad and quit if he has to clean volcano sauce off the leather upholstery again, that we should try one of their pizzas that seem to be always available out of the wood burning brick oven. Which I have to say my motto of “nothing tastes as good as thin”, felt terribly wrong that evening after having that delicious slice.

As I drank my bloody mary the next morning (mom always said have 8 servings of veggies a day), I sat, ala Carrie Bradshaw, in wonderment whether or not Vero finally accomplished what has seemed to be the un-accomplishable by making a night club that might actually be a refreshingly chic place for the younger hip upwardly mobile of Vero who don’t wear boat shoes and talk about well nothing but themselves doomed to turn into the same old Vero.

Haute Shopping? Fashionable Nightclubs? Just what kind of world has Miss Vero pulled the curtain back on? I don’t care, I’m so glad she’s here.

Stop it! Love it! MWAH!