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This Is Not a Tea Party. It’s a Me Party. Sh-Bam.



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33-year-old Claudia has little room for furniture but her holiday party had to have a bartender. Had to. From the New York Times

one thing she had to have was a bartender. “I’m an adult now, living by myself, and this is my sh-bam, my moment,” said Ms. Argiro, who runs a clothing boutique nearby called Charlie and Sam.

She called up Tealicious, a catering company in Queens, which sent over Eric Villani, a 33-year-old bartender, who was stationed in a two-foot-wide triangle in the middle of the room. For the next four hours, Mr. Villani stood there, not to make special cocktails, but to pour a vodka punch or a rum eggnog into clear plastic cups, trimmed with sugar-coated cherries and cinnamon sticks.

 

His presence did not go unheralded in the apartment, in a new warehouse conversion along the Brooklyn waterfront, although the intimate cluster of guests could have easily served themselves. “In my opinion, if you don’t have a bartender at your party, you’re a loser,” said Dustin Terry, who lives a floor below Ms. Argiro and said his job was to get models and Saudi royalty into hot clubs. “The bartender brings class and sophistication.”

“If you can’t afford to hire a bartender,” he added, “you shouldn’t be having a party.”

I hope everyone had a good time. But I hope they have opportunities to see outside the warehouse conversion in Williamsburg. It might put a rum-eggnog-in-plastic-cups-bartender-by-the-Ikea-bookcase in some perspective! Not to mention the 32-year-old fella, a stock trader, who told the Times what the bartender meant to him:

 “I feel very sophisticated at this party,” he said. “And I usually feel like a complete dirt bag.”



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