What Ya Drinkin'?

Rum or Whiskey?
Now won'tcha have a
Double with me?
(The Noisettes, Never Forget You)

Last week saw my first foray into San Francisco society whereby The Missus was accorded an invitation to a cocktail party to celebrate, moreover promote, an upcoming Junior League fashion show. For those that do not know, Junior League is a women only charity organisation that raises money for, and helps to improve the lives of, disadvantaged people in the local area. Thanks to Wikipedia I now know that it is not only in the US but also Canada, Mexico and the UK. For those back home, think W.I. but with less of an emphasis on jam and vegetable competitions. According to one hopeful Junior League applicant one of our party met, the Junior League is all about, "...helping really really poor kids and cool stuff like that". Well there you are then.

The invite with more than a nod to Pan Am

For obvious reasons I have no knowledge of either the inner nor the outer workings of the W.I. It may well be cocktail parties are also their thing. Perhaps there has been a reality TV show rebranding programme that I have missed. "W.I. Raw" presented by a funky young media savvy type (Alexa Cheung or Flo from Florence and the Machine may be) who strip away all the stereotypical images to relaunch a new, stuffy free, chintzless WOAHman's Insitute for the internet generation. Perhaps.

The party

The Junior League do know how to pull in the punters. The target demographic being what would seem rather wealthy and well dressed, by well I mean expensively, dressed women from San Francisco society circles. To entice the well healed, a surprisingly fun local band called Pop Rocks played rocked up 80s classics, all with tongue so firmly in cheek there was a risk of it coming right through to cause a nasty wound no one wanted to see. Not only this, but  a wine raffle with a guaranteed win (my kind of raffle) and the chance to win a $1,600 diamond necklace. The latter prize I would, throughout the night, repeatedly joke to anyone unfortunate enough to have to listen, "...would look great on me". Sadly this was another of my gags failing to produce hoots of laughter but instead simply bemused, confused smiles. Smiles that almost seem to implore help from The Missus. I need to work on my American humour.

Now, I have never been to a cocktail party before. In my mind they have always been a feminine focused type of evening entertainment. Not that I have any problem with that. I have never made a  conscious effort to avoid such parties, they've just never come up. However, I took the opportunity to launch my first social media based experiment. A quick post of Facebook that read, 

"Need to know a) dress code for a man at a reasonably formal cocktail party and b) acceptable man drink for such an occasion considering Old Fashioned has been done to death and I am not Don Draper"

and I was ready with a list of cocktails to try and a mission to try as many of them as I could. I do love a mission. So I arrived list in hand and styled by my friends. I really am embracing social media. 

Rockin'

Not wanting to sound too vain, but I did enjoy experimenting with my friend-designed outfits and now, a few days after the event, I am disappointed I did not think to wear my Pan Am t-shirt which would have fit in perfectly with the aviation theme. My other regret, not wearing mismatching socks. If they could have been fluorescent, even better.  This is a look I shall cultivate later, Cocktail Party, Service Pack 2 if you will.

Luckily I took the advice of wearing a suit to fit in, at least in small part, with the society attendees. Yet, this was the first time I'd worn my suit since, I think, one of my anger inducing Paris work trips  from my former life. I know this to be the case because my inside pocket was still weighed down with three company issue pens and a Eurostar ticket. To soften the suit blow, I accessorised (for I believe that is the term) with the jazzy socks and trainers you see in the photo above. I tried, as best as I could, to rock the Doctor Who-chique look.

Just call me Matt Tennant-Baker

The most popular cocktail suggestion was a Whiskey Sour and I am ashamed to admit, I'd never tried this before. This was the first served and though tasty, it did seem to be layered with toilet juice of the frothy urinal kind. A little off putting but I am always willing to push on through.

Whiskey Sour (on the froth)

Despite the unnerving top layer, this was a hit and The Missus opted for this once the sparkling wine had run out. I moved onto the second on the list, a reassuring gin and tonic but with a dash of bitters. The G&T had to be done. I am, after all English. Middle class at that. The bitters however was whatever unit of measurement is less than  a dash, a piddle?

Tanqueray & tonic with bitters

This is two drinks in and like most other countries but not like home, the US is not shy when serving spirits. Things are starting to get hazy. Again, having not eaten, alcohol was rapidly entering my blood stream but no matter, those Junior League gals were on hand to serve canapes. I did enjoy the crab meat on an endive leaf but please America, please all women, please my lovely wife, no more bloody cupcakes.

Blurry cupcakes to match my degenerating vision and snack disappointment

No matter, onto the next drink. A bourbon and ginger. By this time I am starting to get a measure of each of my friends and their tastes. This will be remembered for future entertaining. Not being a fan of whiskey type drinks,  this was a little too whiskey tasting for my tastes. Yet again though, my British resolve and stiff upper lip meant I drank that and pushed on through to a Manhatten. Oh, more whiskey, that was a mistake.

 

Only the bourbon is mine

Enjoying some nourishment with my Manhatten

My last drink, before the bar closed because, of course like any true Brit, I was there to the very end, a trusty, comforting and well deserved beer. A cop out you may say, but rather enjoyable.

Sweet amber nectar

All in all, cocktail parties are a fine thing and the Junior League put on a great evening. I would definitely enjoy another and would do even more (practical) research before attending my next. Sadly this was a muddling free zone and so mojitos and caipirinhas will have to be left for the next indulgence. My heart however still lies with a cozy pub and a pint of Landlords, but that's just me.

The gang and our snack based table devastation