In the summer of 1998 I was assisting artist Beezy Bailey in promoting his exhibition of drift-wood art. I remember the period well. Months previously I had befriended Barbara Bailey, who I met through my friend and her cousin by marriage, Colin Douglas. Barbara was (and still is) an extraordinary woman and we saw much of each other. Connecting with the late Jim Bailey and Beezy was a consequence of our friendship and in a short time I was engaged to promote Beezy’s show, assist Jim with a project and about to move into Bella Montana , the home the Bailey’s owned adjacent to their Higgovale estate.
Although the exact detail of what went wrong is no longer clear to me, I think it revolved around me not getting Jane Raphaely to attend the exhibition and Beezy and I fell out – we exchanged fuck you’s and our association broke including, rather inconveniently, my planned move into Bella Montana. Later that day, furious and soon to be homeless, I looked through the paper for a place to live – while sunning myself at Graaff’s Pool in Sea Point. I remember the day well as I met Cobus with whom I would be partnered for the following five years that afternoon.
When Ian Manley and Catherine Bolton invited me to join them for dinner at Pigalle in Sandton Square last week I was looking forward to a great evening. I was also pleased to receive an invitation to the opening of Beezy Bailey’s exhibition at the Everard Reed Gallery in Rosebank, Jozie. The lights had been out for around 10 minutes, most of us were looking at the paintings with our cellphones as illumination and I sauntered over to greet Gwen Gill – whom I knew when I worked on the Sunday Times. I didn’t realize that Barbara Bailey was there too and when we hugged it felt like only yesterday that we’d seen each other last.
She has since written a book about her life with Jim – An eccentric marriage I think it’s called, which I look forward to reading.
I’d like to think it is Beezy’s pulling power rather than the delicious Dornier wine that kept people from leaving, even an hour into the continued darkness. It may be that Jobergers won’t be deterred by a little blackout or shootout but I was impressed everyone seemed to stay.
It was a treat to see so much of Beezy’s art in one place. I really don’t know enough about art to critically evaluate it, but I found myself feeling an emotional response to a number of works (especially those featuring the red high heels) as well as a desire to purchase some of it.
The very fabulous Gaby Palmer was there too, along with five German journos who were visiting her at the Westcliff and due to depart for Orient Express’ Botswana camps the following day. Dagmar Schumacher was there too (I think she arranged the opening at Everard Reed) with her gentle husband. She introduced me to Raphael Dornier who, she whispered, comes from an extremely rich family who own airplanes. Raphael is charming but rather exacting. He was giving Arnundal Thom, the event coordinator from LoudFire a dressing down for pouring the wine above the widest point of the glass. I’d like to believe his outrage was based on the impaired enjoyment of the wine without the space in the glass for the ethers to oxygenate rather than a miserly view that too much of it was being consumed.
At Pigalle I asked Ian to order for me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t order for myself but I thought, as I was there as his guest, I’d enjoy whatever he wished. I’m glad he took my wine recommendation – the Mulderbosch Chardonnay is a favorite of mine and I enjoyed the prawns to start and fabulous sirloin. I should have done without the Lemon Tart but couldn’t resist. That night I tossed and turned – feeling the steak ill digested and generally suffering from a culinary beating. The next day, at lunch at the also new Lekgotla on Sandton Square with client Stanley Edwards and Marketing Web’s editor Gillian Jones, I ordered more sensibly – stuffed sardines to start and butternut tagine as my main.
I was so impressed by the Japanese breakfast at The Sandton Sun Towers that I went back for it the following day too. I was expecting to stay at the 80’s glam Sandton Sun but found myself at the impressive towers – think Empire meets Deco - high in the heavens on the 23rd floor.
Most unexpectedly, I found myself upgraded on my SAA flight to Cape Town . It was unexpected because I had purchased the cheapest possible ticket which didn’t even earn Miles let alone an upgrade!
If you’re wondering about the DSTV PVR saga let me say just this: watching TV has never been this fabulous. Imagine how much more fabulous it could have been had I not had to freak out about it.
A storm with Mini is brewing – watch this space…