Notes From The Carlyle – February 2014

images-25 Am I really wearing a cotton dress with only a linen blazer thrown over my shoulders? I keep pinching myself since I was in long johns just a few days ago. In fact, I’m thinking of throwing them a little party they’ve worked so hard these past two months.

The shedding of layers can really cheer a girl.

Rumor has it the temperature dropped back down but I’m pretending I didn’t hear that.

Snow? Oh no…I’m wearing my black and white Manolos, but I just won’t worry about that now, said the Scarlett O’Hara in me.

I’m waiting for Camille who now isn’t coming due to an emergency dental appointment. One of her verneers snapped off thanks to a faulty pine nut. Nothing like a tooth missing, fake or otherwise, to compromise a woman’s appearance. Camille, who prides herself on control, was a bit undone when she compared herself to Otis on the Andy Griffith show.

I’m sitting facing the width of the room on a very warm banquette. As I came in a heavy-set woman seated here was just leaving. Should have gotten her number for the next time my boiler goes off. Could hire her as a heater.

It’s pretty crowded for the early afternoon. Of course nice weather is a cause to celebrate so one shouldn’t be surprised.

Snow? There it is again. Don’t believe everything you hear, I told my shoes.

Joan, the barmaid, is racking in the dough with a crowd consisting of three attractive women and one excited sailor. I’m trying not to let my imagination run away with me, but it’s very hard…pun intended.

This fella on leave is running up quite a tab since these three are swigging Long Island Ice Teas like Pepsi. I’ll bet he’s thinking he’ll get a rebate before you could say, ship to shore..over and out.

Out indeed…boobs lolling on top of the bar like seal pups.

There’s something about a guy in uniform that brings out the romantic in me, so when he asked if I’d join the group I accepted, for my essays sake. Personally, I think he was just being polite because he had his hands already quite full, and these girls were party oriented, if you know what I mean, whereas, I looked more Amish in comparison.

My little frock offered no cleavage to speak of since there isn’t much to display. The Supremes, however, brought Penthouse to Bemelmans. I was tempted to go see if Jackie’s picture in the foyer was flipping around like Sybil.

As I sat and observed, more women came in like there was a sex conference going on. The Carlyle looked more like a Vegas Marriott than a classy hotel. And could these women drink.

After I came back from the ladies room, a big, blonde amazon had taken my seat. Popeye shrugged innocently as if to say, I couldn’t say no…I mean look at her.

You’ve heard the expression, when my ship comes in…his ship was on the dock doing the mambo.

I started making notes on cocktail napkins but couldn’t write fast enough. Between the outfits and conversation…”What does blow me down mean, exactly?”

“Can we pretend you’re the captain and I’m your mate forced to obey everything you say?”

“Did it tickle to get that Hawaiian girl tattooed on your arm…did she just wink or am I that drunk?”

“Wanna lock me in the brig?”

Did I want to answer some of these, but held my tongue, unlike theirs that were in his ear and down his throat. The behavior was X-rated, like a cable-channel you watch secretly after midnight.

At my most erotic moment I couldn’t hold a candle, or anything else for that matter, to these girls. I kept thinking, where’s the fleet or at least a couple more guys to help this fella out. If he takes them all on, he’ll be dead. I can see the headline on the front of The New York Post now…


He wasn’t all that young either, 45 maybe? The blonde that said, “Was this your seat honey…I am just so sorry,” but didn’t get up, smiled at me as if to say, don’t worry, we’ll take his blood pressure before we fuck him to death.

I got my check and got the hell out of there.

It was really no place for a nice Amish girl like me (or her shoes),

who couldn’t wait to go home to write about it.



About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
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18 Responses to Notes From The Carlyle – February 2014

  1. micklively says:

    Very funny Susannah. Mayhap Sailor Sam will die happy, and that’s probably as much as any of us can aspire to. Make hay whilst the sun shines!


  2. micklively says:

    We men are weak and predictable when presented with a pretty face. I hear tell they’ve done studies that show our intelligence plummets in the presence of a beautiful woman. That’s why I can’t spoll when I’m leaving comments here.


  3. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, I love your headline for his demise. I hope Camille’s Halloween look is a thing of the past.


  4. katecrimmins says:

    You have me giggling. So glad you joined the group — for the sake of research of course. Sounds like it was pretty wild. Makes you wonder how it all ended.


  5. MJ says:

    Oooh, does this sparkle! “Boobs lolling on top of bar like seal pups”…another one for Bartlett’s when your ship comes in. Still mulling over what you said the other day.


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