Growing up within the haute hallowed halls of Fifth Avenue’s Plaza Hotel certainly seemed simple enough. But for a little girl named Eloise actually doing so, the elegance and whispered shouts of “Do Not Touch!” could get tiring ever so quickly. With a British nanny by your side, however, it was quite possible to have the time of your life with minimal effort. But getting older is inevitable; and with age comes the departure of those who minded you as a child – including said British nanny.
Of course, for Ellen von Unwerth’s take on Kay Thompson’s precocious child star Eloise, in her August 2009 ELLE fashion editorial Little Miss Precious; the famed photographer illustrates that just because one grows older, does not mean that habits – however naughty – must change.
Nanny did her best to teach me to stay away from the telephone after an incident of charging up quite a bit of money on a long-distance call to talk to Mother in Paris; but there's something about buttons, bows, black netted veils, and red soled Louboutins with corresponding red nail polish that makes conversing long distance seem so incredibly enticing. Weenie and Skipperdee are already nestled in their little beds, fast asleep, so I see nothing wrong with dialing someone for a little evening chitchat. In fact, I'm sure the Desk Clerk would love to hear from me. What was his number again; or should I simply dial 0 for the operator?
Precocious girls need to be stimulated to keep their curiosity from getting the best of them; at least that's what Mother used to say. But the only thing that keeps me stimulated is shiny baubles that sparkle and drip with decadence. Like the ones dangling from the chandelier in the lobby, perched precariously above a marble pillar. Oh, Mr. Salomone has told me time and time again to keep off the furniture, and leave the decor alone, but my Zac Posen wool dress and Fendi pumps seem quite accomodating for a quick climb atop the plush, high-backed chair simply sitting right next to my jeweled reverie. The coast is clear...one step...two steps...it's even more grand than I expected!
I'm sure that the other Plaza guests find it infuriating; but, quite frankly, I could care less. If I want to ride the elevator up and down all day, stopping at different floors to explore a bit, then I shall do just that. Of course, proper attire is required when taking such public trips; and my closet doesn't hold such pieces. Mother's does, though. Never would she make a trek out of doors without a Luella veiled hat sitting primly atop her head, Honora freshwater pearls dangling from her neck, and Gaspar net gloves slipped over her immaculately manicured fingers. At the moment, I am adorned in these very things. Now only one question remains...what floor should I visit today?
Whatever man I choose to marry someday - and yes, I will do the choosing - better be prepared for me to awake whenever I feel ready. I will not be roused from sleep by anyone other than Skipperdee or Weenie (just ask Nanny), and once I do decide to rub the slumber from my eyes, I shall stay swathed in my Victoria's Secret satin-and-lace romper and garter skirt, my Calvin Klein wool-and-silk coat hanging haphazardly from my frame, until I feel fit to dress. During this time, I will leave my hair uncombed, and simply spend hours upon hours smelling the fresh-cut flowers delivered straight to my room each morning. Complain, and I will simply find another - beau, that is.
The others always had to lock their bikes up in dingy apartments, or store them next to tin garbage cans in alleyways when the weather turned chilly. Not I. Streets slick with rain and snow didn't stand in the way of me and blissful bike rides then; and they don't interfere with them now. Of course, since this is the Plaza, one must always ensure that, even when riding a bike, you look posh. Winged eyeliner provides a cat eye; a Giorgio Armani wool felt beret keeps my wild waves out of my face; and my Emilio Cavallini stockings tucked into practical yet pleasing Chloe sandals protect my cream-colored skin from bruising. Save your breath, Mr. Salomone; I'm keeping my naughtiness at bay, and simply enjoying an afternoon bike ride - through the gilded halls of the Plaza, that is. Don't pitch a fit, simply face it...girls just want to have fun!
Thanks to ELLE for the pictures.
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