part two : booze
Cristina was in charge of drinks for the evening, which was great because despite having a dive bar's worth of alcohol I am lousy at mixing drinks. Champagne cocktails with a crazy assortment of mixers made for a wild time. She stocked the bar with Aperol, Hpnotiq, St. Germain, Peach Schnapps, Creme de Cassis, and a some sort of Cotton Candy flavored abomination, as well as juices and blackberries for floating. The magic touch was the hot pink rimming sugar adorning our glasses, striking the perfect balance of aesthetics and fodder for cheap innuendo.
Cristina's classy selections |
Compare to my bar, where quantity /= quality. |
Bravely sampling some nasty candy-filled concoction I apparently whipped up. |
part three: food
I found out too late that there is a kitschy Liberace cookbook. How I wish there had been time to acquire this gem and prepare some of the recipes from the man himself. But even without this touch of authenticity, the party eats were a retro-tastic delight.
Meatballs and deviled eggs were easy choices, but Cristina and I concluded that late 70s party foods seemed to consist mainly of store-bought snacks served elegantly, or as we put it, "Fritos in pimp cups." After clearing out my mother's china hutch of all its gilded serveware, I offered up not only Fritos but Circus Animal cookies, chips and onion dip, ladyfingers, gold-wrapped chocolates and rice krispie treats topped with rainbow and silver sprinkles. (Oh, how I wish I could have added Twinkies to that list!) The crown jewel was Cristina's fantastic jello mold, resplendent on a bed of mini-marshmallows.
part four: entertainment
This being a movie party, the entertainment was pretty much built-in. Since my crummy television is as deep as it is wide, I borrowed a projector for a more dramatic cinema experience. This was a smaller party than my usual affairs, mainly because most people I know aren't that into Liberace, so we were all able to fit in my teeny fake home theater.
Before the frequently-interrupted viewing began, I kept the cocktail party lively with a Spotify playlist of Liberace's ivory-tickling melodies. And of course a photo booth is a must for any hipster theme party. In this case it wasn't so much a booth as a camera on a tripod, but the results were spectacular. My guests really went all-out with costumes. (My female guests, that is. Not a single dude was moved to masquerade.) Sequined and poofed-up, neon and shimmery, fur-clad and jewel-laden, elegant and outlandish, all were excellent.
Alas, by the time we all settled down to watch the movie, my night was approaching an end. A few too many champagne creations made it difficult to stay awake, so I left my sober husband to watch over the guests and snuck off to bed. Not quite an exit worthy of Liberace, perhaps, but a wild, wild time.