Gigi

This is the grand staircase of the even grander restaurant Maxim’s. The Chicago Maxim’s that dwelt in the Bertrand Goldberg-designed Astor Towers. Opened in 1963 as an homage to the 1893 Paris original, it was run by Goldberg’s wife Nancy.

It closed in 1982.

But the on dit has it that it’s going to be restored to all its fin du siècle gloire by Au Cheval restaurateur Brendan Sodikoff.

Très bien!

I loved that place and I was lucky enough to be at the very last private party- I think- ever to be held at cher Maxim’s.

It was a birthday party for my dear friend, Martin.

Will Rogers Sidebar: For those of you who never had the privilege of knowing him, let me now introduce you.  Martin- who sadly passed away at only sixty-three in 2010- was kind, quick to laugh and philanthropic to the max.

He had more friends than anyone.

And it was his greatest pleasure to have all his old friends meet all his new friends.  And he loved nothing better than a fabulous fête.

Hence it was his birthday that we would be celebrating at Maxim’s.

Here’s a photo of Martin, me and few other high society toffs you may recognize.

That’s us- second and third from the right- at a Chicago Historical Museum Costume Committee Gala called the Donor’s Ball.  This was held at the Field Museum that year.

Do me a favor.

Zoom in on my couture.

This getup was a BIG production number.  Very La Belle Epoque indeed.  My gown was by Oscar De la Renta, and it had a bustle, a black velvet bow and a train.  I wore gloves, of course.

I even gilded the lily (Langtry) by topping it all off with a matching feather in my hair. (Which you can’t see in the photograph, but trust me. Not only is it there, but I still have it in one of my zillion hatboxes that I’m too lazy to go through.)

Very 1980’s, but it made me feel very 1880’s and I loved it.

So when Martin threw himself a fabulous black tie birthday gala at Maxim’s, this was the rig-out I donned.

Naturellement.

Came the big evening and I swanned in wearing my grand outfit.  I was part of the milieu and matched the luxe decor parfaitement.

Everything was going swell until…

There is no other way to put this.

I had to go to the lady’s room.

Now chances are you’ve never had to negotiate a water closet in a ball gown.

(And gloves, a train, a bustle and a feathered headdress,)

This is an obstacle course that requires a whole lot of careful negotiating and finesse.

The key here is to sloooow everything down.

Take your time.

So I gingerly started wriggling around careful to avoid the water in the toilet.

The whole process took about seven minutes.

I had just finished and started to re-don all the accoutrement, when my eyes were drawn to a pair of size fourteen evening slippers jutting out from the stall next to me.

All in the Family Sidebar:  Martin had a sibling named Darr.  In his obituary, Crain’s Chicago Business referred to Darr as Martin’s sister.

Umm. I’m not sure if this was anatomically correct.

Although Darr always dressed and lived as a woman- “she” even had a husband named Ronny- I’m pretty sure that Darr was a dude.

A dude who looked like Bruce Vilanch and dressed like Dame Edna.

Picture a mashup between this.

And this.

I am not being mean. Darr was not one of those willowy, elegant trans people who looked his or her best in an evening gown.

But the minute I saw those giant pumps in the neighboring stall, I started to get concerned. I wanted to give Darr his/her privacy after all. So I carefully started to put my attire back onto place.

But then I heard Darr softly calling out.

“Ronny. Ronny.”

That did it.

I had no idea what hijinks were going to go on in the powder room stall but I was out of there in ten seconds flat.

I think about this now because I wonder what Caitlin Jenner does.

Red Carpet Safety Tip to Caitlin:  If you’re going to a gala event and you’re all gussied up in a ball gown and feathers…

Pee at home, pal.

Allons y à Maxim’s maintenant!