We met one delightful guest who had the most daring hair. Well, daring for the Frick. It was blond on top and dark brown underneath. I commented on its good looks and she just snapped- "It weave ok! It's just weave! I had it all cute and curled but this damn rain ruined it and now it's a mess!"
Oh dear. I thought it looked rather sublime.
As the evening wore on and the dancing reached a crescendo I noticed this darling girl scurrying to the corner of the ballroom and fiddling with her hair. What could it be?
"It's my weave! I had to take it out. It just separates from your natural hair when you get sweaty and I was looking a wreck."
Here is proof, dear reader, that even at the Frick ball one can sniff out some good tracks. Hope they ended up tumbling to a good bar for a night cap.
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