Magazine article The Spectator

Swell Times

Magazine article The Spectator

Swell Times

Article excerpt


I went to a wonderful party, three days of a non-stop feast. Although not at the Palace, mere hoi polloi were excluded, in theory at least.

There was no sign of a Kate or a Mick - they must have forgotten the date. Actually, they were not invited, but Topper (who no one could say is a pleb - well bred is his motto, or is it well fed? ) was there, as were Freddy and Minnie and Lolly and Bunny and George. I couldn't have liked it more.

Sorry, Sir Noel, but I write this rather hung over, the Muse having silently slipped away in the snow at around six-thirty this morning on my way home. Some 430 swells flew over the Atlantic for Philip Radziwill's marriage to Devon Schuster, his childhood qsweetheart, a romantic but spectacular wedding in the snow-covered village of Gstaad, where the groom's parents have a chalet.

The timing was perfect. Gstaad resembles Yemen during the holidays, but then things quieten down until the February rush that turns this beautiful Alpine town into Beirut, with a bit of downtown Moscow thrown in for good measure. So, in the middle of January, while hoi polloi were back chasing the not-so-mighty buck, the swells arrived for some serious partying among the sheltering mountains of the Bernese Oberland, the German part of good old Helvetia which I love. (French-speaking Switzerland I find bogus-chic, and the Italian part slightly Sloaney-phony. ) What a pleasure it was not to run into anime-style creatures with exaggerated cheeks, lips and breasts. No pouting Jade Jaggers stinking up the place with their selfimportance, certainly no desperate, publicity-seeking Paris Hilton types; just a lot of young good-looking people having fun.

The parents of the groom are very old and good friends of mine. The mother, Eugenie Radziwill, is actually a childhood friend.

As is her husband John. I first met John's father, Stas, when he was JFK's brother-inlaw. He was married to Jackie's much prettier sister Lee, but the marriage I always thought to be a rocky one, and it ended in divorce sometime during the Seventies. Stas liked to have a good time and we used to hit the clubs together when he came to Paris.

He would have enjoyed last weekend as he had an eye for the ladies, to say the least.

Just before I sat down to write this column I glanced at the papers and saw pictures of a hoodie delivering a small package to 18-year-old Georgia Jagger, and a report of the de rigueur punch-up which followed and ended Georgia's birthday celebration in London. …

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