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My roaring twenties

I think costume parties would be my guilty pleasure if I could ever talk anyone else into them. I am frequently shot down by my beautiful friends for choosing themes they claim only I would look good dressing in…but for my 24th birthday we found the 1920s an agreeably attractive era to celebrate and miraculously convinced enough people that costumes were mandatory at my party.

With my entire life packed up to move downtown the next day, we toasted to our time in the Upper East Side at our favorite neighborhood bar—that I’m reluctant to name because it’s hard enough to find a seat—Auction House. The décor is undoubtedly vintage, but I’ll admit a bit Victorian with partially nude paintings on the walls redeemed by plush red velvet furniture. Red curtains and an American flag maintain privacy from the street while no signage whatsoever creates the elusive and exclusive feel New Yorkers are obsessed with.

My guests’ costumes were as much of a stretch on the 20s as the bar itself, but we got enough “roaring 20s!” exclamations on the street to appease our efforts. We blended so well with the setting that we heard a guy assuring his girlfriend this was just how New Yorkers dress. And sometimes it is.

My thanks to the two friends who will embrace any adventure as much as I, Josh and Katie, who made sure I looked like the birthday girl and got photos to capture the evening just as I wanted it. It truly was a wonderful birthday, as snazzy and sophisticated as I’d hoped. What a year 23 was with friends like this in the city.

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