Oh, and these truffles. These truffles. Oh, my goodness, these truffles.
Also, these. What were they? I don’t know. Happiness made out of chocolate and caramel, I guess:
Want to know what is on the menu at the Bendel Snack Bar? So you can go in and buy boxes? Here are some samples:
Ooh La La Oreos: chocolate sandwich cookies drenched in Belgian chocolate
Bendel Bears: Gummies coated in dark and white chocolate
Brown & White Skinnies: Thin wafers of dark and white chocolate
NYC Trash Mix: Crisp cereal, pretzels, pecans mixed with white chocolate
Short & Sweet: Whole grain shortbread cookies with espresso and chocolate
The only sad thing about this grand event was that there were all these fashion people around, not eating. What were they doing there? They kept taking these miniature bottles of water labeled Bendel. I felt I had to hover, staring at all the sweets, sort of moving my finger-tips around in front of the truffles, but not touching them, like I was casting a magic spell.
Incidentally, you’re probably never going to read one of these reports/Very Secret Diary entries that runs “I went out and talked to people and made new friends and was totally normal about everything.” It’s just not how I roll. I don’t even know how people do that. I thought you made friends by carefully observing others’ movements until you felt safe saying something about a dinosaur being Karl Lagerfeld’s mother and, if they didn’t laugh, never talking to them again and moving into a trailer outside the local liquor store so you could be closer to your real friends, Jack Daniels and Jim Bean.
It’s really fortunate my dinosaur-Karl-Lagerfeld joke has played so well over the years.
Some men with bow ties ate some truffles, but that was it. I think they were talking about beach houses? Also, they talked about how tempting it all was, and how they could not, possibly, eat. Why were they there? Why were they there?
I wished there weren’t other people there. Then I could eat as many truffles as I wanted and no one could judge!
It made me think about that episode of the Twilight Zone, where that little man just loves books so much, but everyone keeps interrupting him when he tries to read (and, I think, in the saddest televised scene ever, his wife asks him to read her some of his favorite poetry, and he looks so excited, and then opens the book to find that she has inked out all the words. Why did he marry her? Who inks out words in books? Why did she hate him so much? Had he had an affair? Recently? Do they not touch on that? Why wasn’t he an English teacher? There are so many questions at work in that episode). Anyhow, a nuclear apocalypse happens (wiping out everyone except him), and he says “time enough at last!” and stacks up all the books he wants to read and then his eyeglasses break.
It’s a really dismal episode, but I always thought that man also miscalculated, because after a nuclear catastrophe I think you’d spend a ton of time dealing with radiation sickness. There would not actually be a lot of time for reading. Especially if you had to fight those weird land-crab hybrids H. G. Wells predicted.
But. If there were a nuclear apocalypse, I would like to be in the Bendel Snack Bar and I would eat all the chocolate potato chips without anyone being there to judge.
It would be glorious and beautiful and I am going to break into Henri Bendel at 2:00 in the morning so I can make this dream a reality. Basically, this post was just to let you know, so you can meet me there. Bring your own dinosaur joke. And your own chocolate. You cannot have any of mine.