The Spectator of yore had an amusing device: the High Life/Low Life columns. What you got was exactly what it said on the tins. The irrepressible and apparently immortal Taki Theodoracopoulos (a founder of my own publication) would float on a cloud of champagne bubbles around Europe’s regattas, Grand Prix races, and balls—cool marble interiors and glittering gowns, a happy memory of a happy memory, to be sure, but still better than whatever passes for Society with a capital S now.
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