Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

“Joey’s my cousin. I always get invited to these dinners because Yolanda needs me to
sit beside him to keep him awake. Look at you! I love the new hairstyle. You look like
Emma Thompson! How did the shoot go today?”
“It was fantastic. I couldn’t be happier.”
“Well I’m so happy to see you here! We’re going to have such a good time! You know,
Joan Roca i Fontané is the celebrity chef tonight. He has the top restaurant in the world
right now—El Celler de Can Roca. It’s so hard to get a reservation, you have to murder
someone to get on the list. I wonder who else Yolanda invited? Oh look who’s here—it’s
the First Lady of Singapore!”
Kitty looked over and saw Oliver greeting the First Lady as if they were both
embarrassed to be seeing each other at the party.
“You are among the crème de la crème of Singapore now, Kitty. These parties are so
exclusive that no photographers are ever allowed,” Wandi said, just as a roving
photographer dressed in a black tuxedo flashed his camera at them.
“That’s Yolanda’s personal documentarian. It’s not for the public,” Wandi quickly
explained. “Oh look, here come the footmen—this means we are adjourning to the dining
room!”
A set of grand double doors were opened, and as Kitty walked through the arched doors,
her eyes widened in wonder. She felt as if she had been transported back to a royal
banquet in eighteenth-century France. The room was a mirrored chamber decorated with
baroque gold boiseries, gilt bronze mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling, and dozens of
candlelit crystal chandeliers. An immense dining table that seated thirty stretched along
the middle of the room, heaving with Meissen china, gilt silverware, and towering gold
birdcage centerpieces filled with white doves. The room sparkled under the light of
thousands of candles, and footmen with powdered white wigs and dressed in black-andgold
livery stood behind every Amiens tapestry-covered chair.
“Hashtag madamedefuckingpompadour!” Oliver muttered under his breath.
“Yolanda had this dining room rescued from an old crumbling palace in Hungary and
transported here piece by piece. It took three years to restore it to its former glory,”
Wandi proudly announced.
“Can we do this at my house? Find an old palace and transport the dining room over?”
Kitty whispered to Oliver.
Oliver cast Kitty a disapproving look. “Absolutely not! Alexis de Redé would be
projectile vomiting in his grave if he saw this travesty.”
Kitty didn’t have a clue what he meant, but she was only too thrilled to be shown to her
seat by a handsome footman, where her place card was a small antique gilt mirror with
her name etched in glass. As she was about to sit down, the man beside her grabbed her
arm. “Madame, not yet. We don’t sit until the First Lady has been seated. Yolanda follows
the official court protocols here,” he said in a Scandinavian accent.
“Oh, sorry, I had no idea,” Kitty said. She stood by her seat, watching everyone stand at
their places. Finally, the butler standing by the double doors announced, “The Honorable