I like to quit when I'm ahead, but when it comes to parties in my own home I generally don't. You have to be gorgeous when the first guest arrives and still full of energy when the last one leaves. Which made Krissa's birthday party on Saturday anomalous; when the first guests arrived I wasn't even dressed, and I was in bed by the time the apartment cleared out. In between were six hours of spectacularly well-dressed fun.





















I smelled like party when I got up the next morning for a much-needed catch-up session with Mark over (also much-needed) coffee. In fact, I smelled like party all day, because in the afternoon Krissa and I cleaned up the aftermath.

On a Monday morning that was bright and warm but felt like autumn nonetheless, I traipsed around the village with these fine looking people.













I've had worse weekends.