I always say how much I love the library for the peace it guarantees. You get to sit in this lovely room framed in long French windows nestled on chintz couches and cushy easy chairs reading to your hearts’ content. It’s the closest think to heaven without an open bar.
However, every so often a faux pas occurs. Something rare and unexpected.
A woman I’ve seen before always remembered for her old-world style came in sitting across from me buried in the New York Times. She dresses like it was 1907…lace brocaded frocks tight around the waist and bust. Chubby calves crammed into vintage Ferragamo day slippers. I always think of Caroline Astor and her 400 set of socialites whenever this lady appears since she also has that same distinguished look of perpetual, snooty disdain.
The reading room is so quiet, quite often people nap. Even I on occasion will close my eyes for a fleeting rest. So Mrs. Astor too, took a little catnap between the style and financial page.
Then another lady came in about the same age, 70 to 75…also well-dressed in a Pucci skirt and billowy blouse plopping herself on the couch next to me, strands of pearls threatening to strangle her.It took her a few minutes to settle causing the sofa to undulate like it was suddenly on water finally relaxing with the current issue of Vogue. After a few minutes she too fell asleep to the sound of the other woman blissfully snoring.
Now the thing about the library is, no one wants to be improper about anything, and that includes admonishing someone’s unseemly behavior, yet we were all getting annoyed, exchanging looks, shaking our heads, when suddenly the woman on the couch let out a fart that could be heard around the world waking both she and the snorer solving the problem.
Of course, the rest of us with our noses in our books and periodicals had to pretend we didn’t hear (nor smell) a thing.
I mean it is the library after all.
It took a few minutes for the fumes to clear, but in no time peace and fresh air was restored after a man got up and opened a window.