‘Dad’d like this place’, I mused to myself as I idly wandered further into the cavernous interior of the Basilica nibbling at the tiny quiche things I’d rescued from the buffet. Whoever came up with putting salmon, crème fraische and strawberries together was a genius! It was quieter here, the bustle and unthought platitudes of the invited guests just a murmur behind me.

The commercial bunfest was occupying but a tiny part of the interior, a larger curtained off area was no doubt enclosing the ‘show’ area but here, further into the nave, there was just me, a few folding chairs and the tapping of my heels. I sat carefully on one of the chairs before giving my calves and ankles a micro massage - I might be able to walk in these heels but I never said it was a comfortable experience.

“Gloria,” a nasal voice brayed, “on your own today? No mother in law?”

Gloria rolled her eyes before turning from the sink to greet her addressor, “Margareta, what a surprise,” not, “no mother is with my sister in Bavaria, I’ve brought the Gräfin Ahrweiler with me.”

Margareta Buchbinder was one of those women, a fellow student from Gloria’s days at Kassel University, new money but she really wanted to be old and as such is easily impressed by titles – even if they didn’t actually exist. Of course Max’s girlfriend didn’t really have a title but conferring one on her would have Buchbinder falling over herself. And whilst in the Ahrtal Gaby was referred to as the Prinzessin, bumping her too far up the social ladder would be too obvious, Gräfin Ahrweiler is just high enough and at the same time a coomon enough title to not be a too obvious fiction.

“Ah, the Gräfin,” Buchbinder allowed, “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“She is only sixteen, this is her first one of these – she was at München last year,” Gloria dropped in.

Of course everyone who counts was at that wedding, a point not lost on Margareta.

“I should of course pay my respects.”
“Of course,” Gloria smiled back, “i’ll be sure to introduce you.”

Of course when Gloria returned to the reception area there was no sign of the newly elevated ‘Gräfin Ahrweiler’, she had a soft spot for the girl, she has a heart of gold but the line about ‘ditzy blondes’ could’ve been written about her. Today the youngster looked every bit the sophisticated society beauty, neither model tall nor skinny but an innocent thrust into this world of landed gentry and nouveau riche. Certainly not your typical horse fixated member of society, she blushed at that last, she was as guilty of that as the rest.

She looked around the crowd, unlike the rest of the sycophants in their expensive but frankly boring outfits Gaby was far from in wall flower mode. No, she was wearing current season D&G™, if Gloria was right, the shoes didn’t look high street and Pfennig to the Mark her hose has to be Wolford too. In short she was hard to miss but of the youngster there was no sight.

Well she wasn’t in the toilets so she must be out here somewhere, but where?

“Fraulein?”

The voice broke into my wayward thoughts – nothing deep, just wondering what the heck I’m doing here, dressed like a turkey at a turkey conference before Weihnachts. Okay, bit deep but its nice in here, cool and quiet.

“Erm?”
“You are alright?” the priest chap enquired.
“Um yeah, just taking the weight off, not the most comfortable footwear,” I replied waggling a dainty foot, “erm, sorry if i’m not supposed to be here.”
“No you are fine, take as long as you want, you are here for the show?”
“How’d you know?”
“Well we don’t usually see such well dressed patrons unless there’s a wedding and rarely are they as beautiful.”

Hopefully the limited light hid my blush at his comment.

“I’m surprised you let them hold their show in here, didn’t think churches and commerce went together.”
“A sign of the times I fear, the church is expensive to maintain, they pay well and so for a day we join the band of Mamon, I’m sure our Lord understands and will forgive us.”

I’m far from a god botherer but if I was I think i’d go with that.

“Gabrielle!” a distant voice called into the cavern.
“Looks like I’ve been missed,” I allowed with a sigh.

The priest chap offered me a hand which, in these heels, I was quite happy to take to get upright.

“Thanks.”
“I hope you enjoy the show Gabrielle.”
“I’ll try,” hang on, how’d he know my name?

“Gaby, there you are,” Gloria mentioned, “I wondered where you’d gone, we need to take our seats for the presentation.”
“Er sorry, just enjoying the peace in here.”
“It is nice isn’t it. I think the last time I was here it was Max’s christening.”

We started back towards the commercial world.

“Its a long way from Rech,” I noted.
“Oh, back then we lived down here, Willie worked for Bayer, we only moved up to Rech when his father died, must be nearly fifteen years ago now.”
“The Baroness’s husband?”
“Yes,” she agreed, “he really was old school, he’d have hated the restaurant, especially it being in part of the family home.”
“I can sort of understand that.”
“Well I can’t say I was a hundred percent keen but needs must, we don’t have income like the Taxis or even my sisters lot. Oh by the way, you’re the Gräfin Ahrweiler for today.
“I am?”
“I’ll explain later.”

We were pretty much the last to go into the show space and of course our allocated seating was right at the front – look don’t ask me. The result of course was that all eyes were on us, well probably, no disrespect Gloria but mostly on me. I tried to ignore the looks and whispering as we made our way to the seats, I swear I heard a lot of ‘Gräfin’ being whispered and more than a few respectful nods – just what is Gloria up to?

We were barely seated before the lights were lowered and the afternoon’s ‘presentation’ began. I might not have been to one of these things before but I do read Bild and Stern so I had some idea of what to expect but of course 2D pictures don’t quite convey the 3D reality of flashing lights, loud music and the chatter of shutters from the bank of cameras. Of course the mannequins were all skinny as you’d expect, there’s more meat on a muddy stick and I reckon they were all like a metre eighty tall.

Its no wonder that no one actually wears most of this stuff, okay, I’m wearing one of their frocks today but most of this stuff is just so off the wall. The models strutted along the low staging, turning and moving in a clearly well choreographed fashion to show off each outfit. Yeah, pure theatre to entertain the lucky (?) few watching in the room.

Well i’m not going to even try to describe everything we were shown, for starters I can’t remember and those that I can I don’t have the words to do so. What I can tell you is that I can’t imagine going anywhere where most of it would be appropriate. No, I can’t see me nipping down to Eloise Couture to get my orders in for any of this stuff when we get back.

I guess what you don’t appreciate reading Stern or whatever is how long it goes on for, by the time you’ve seen each part of the collection you’ve looked at something like a hundred outfits. Say a minute each and factor in bits between and you’re looking at best bit of two hours sat on a less than comfortable chair watching stupidly expensive clothes strut, waft and twirl past. The end couldn’t come soon enough for me, a final sashay of ‘key’ pieces, presentation of designers and then finally it was over.

“So what do you think,” Gloria asked as we waited our turn to depart the show area,
“I think I need the ladies,” I whispered back.
“Me too, damn, sorry about this, Margareta.”
“Some nice pieces Gloria.”

The woman, didn’t just sound like a horse, she looked like one too.

“Indeed,” Gloria sort of agreed, “but where are my manners, Gabrielle, may I introduce Margareta Buchbinder, an old friend from university, Margareta, the Gräfin Ahrweiler.”

Ah, this must be what Gloria was hinting at before the show.

“Pleased to meet you you’re Ladyship,” the subject of the prank offered.
“And you too I’m sure,” I hammed in my best immitation of Sophia, not that she talks particularly posh, offering a limp hand which was seized and shaken.
“Did you enjoy the show?” she pushed on.
“It was, ‘interesting’.”

Somehow we’d attracted a bit of a discrete audience and I could hear my words and assumed title in several whispered conversations.

“If you’d excuse us Margareta, I promised the Gräfin’s parents I’d have her home for dinner,” Gloria hammed in turn.
“Of course, a pleasure to meet you Gräfin.”
“Mutual i’m sure.”

I finally got to empty my bladder and my ‘guardian’ led the way back into the late afternoon sunshine. What I hadn’t been expecting was the bank of paparazzi catching us on the way out.

“Give me your present,” Glo suggested, “go ahead of me and give them a smile.”
“Really?”
“Trust me Gräfin, you want these guys on your side, a few pictures now and they’ll leave you be next time.”
“If you say so,” I sighed before plastering a happy smile on and heading on out.

“So what was all that Gräfin stuff about?” I asked once we were in the car again.
“Lets just say that Margareta is a bit of a social bore, Jorge Buchbinder is a nice chap, runs his own construction company but she has ‘ideas’ of grandeur.”
“Sounds like Nana Bond,” I suggested, “puts a posh voice on for strangers, doilies on the chairs and stuff.”
“Something like that,” Gloria agreed, “by the way, nice touch with the accent.”
“Accent?”
“The full on Prussian private school, where did you get that, the TV?”
“I just sort of copied how Sophia talks.”
“Taxis?”
“Well her family are the poshest that I know, I mean Ludwig is a Duke.”
“Huh, pulling rank on me,” she chortled.
“Won’t all those other people think I’m this Gräfin Ahrweiler though, there’s not a real one is there?”
“Not as far as I know but there are so many minor houses in the country I doubt anyone will question it, its not like we’re in Bonn. So Gräfin, you want to stop for an early dinner?”

I couldn’t resist checking the contents of the D&G™ goody bag we’d been handed on our exit from the event. For me, when I think of a goody bag, memories of the sweets and cheap throwaway toys received at friends birthday parties are the thing but even the receptacle was in another league today. It might only be a tote bag, but its a designer tote bag, pretty sure if you could buy one these it would be like €30, i’ve not even got to the contents.

Gloria was spot on, a spritzer of their latest fragrance, a travel set of skin care products and an exclusive, well that's what it said on the tag, scarf – I reckon there was at least a hundred euros worth there. Gift horse and all that. I settled back into the Porsche’s leather covered armchair, who would’ve thought that Gloria would do that whole wind up thing, Gräfin indeed.

My chauffeur took us back up the autobahn to Daun where we stopped at the Restaurant Müller out near the swimming lake.

“So a good day Gaby?”
“Different,” I opined before taking a sip of the wine Gloria had ordered, “so do you go to a lot of those things?”
“A few, I’m not really a clothes horse, give me a hacking jacket and jodphurs any day.”
“The horse stuff yeah?”
“What about you? you do fashion diva very well.”
“Its not exactly me, not really.”

We were interrupted by the arrival of food. Food, oh bum, Mad and Aunt Carol, I said I’d cook tonight. Not just that, its not like they’ll starve but I’ve not given Mad a thought since we left this morning, does that make me a bad person?

Maddy Bell © 20.08.2018