Schuyler, my gorgeous daughter, who, having been born, like, five minutes ago, is having her Sweet 16 party in May. She wanted it so badly, almost as much as I wanted her not to have it. I offered her the cash instead, which she refused, something about her not having had a bat mitzvah and needing this moment to mark her passage into blah blah blah. I tried to explain that it was HER choice to drop out of Hebrew school, not mine, but that fell on deaf ears. Suffice it to say, the party is scheduled.
I was adamant that this not be anything like the My Super Sweet 16 parties of MTV fame. We would not be presenting her with an Escalade. We would not take our private jet (even if we had one) to Beverly Hills to shop for a dress. There would be no costume changes during the event. She would not be dropped into the fete by helicopter. There would be no diamond tiaras from Harry Winston, even if they were willing to lend us one, which they weren't (I checked). There would be no appearance by Beyonce. No siree, Bob, I was having none of that spoiled-rotten-obnoxious-teenagers-who-don't-understand-the-value- of-dollar bullshit. This would be a simple, old-fashioned Sweet 16 like the kind Ma and Pa threw for Mary on Little House on the Prairie.
Our first order of business was to negotiate the number of kids in attendance. Mark and I suggested 30, including the two of us, Schuyler's brother, Sam, and his best friend. Schuyler wanted 300. So we compromised on 130. Can you imagine? One hundred and thirty sexteen, I mean, sixteen-year-olds in one room? Can somebody spell s-e-c-u-r-i-t-y?
Next we had to find a place to hold the party. Our apartment was out of the question, mainly because I did not want to destroy our home. I thought perhaps we could rent a loft for, oh say, five hundred bucks. HA! Not gonna happen! Loft rentals start at $3,000 and that was for a five-floor walk up in Chinatown. So, we decided on a restaurant around the corner that has an underground party dungeon lined in bedrock AND located under the street. No matter how noisy the guests, neighbors wouldn't complain. Nor could the kids destroy the place (unless they were packing jackhammers, but security has been instructed not to allow those in).
Meanwhile, invitations had to go out. Have you priced printed invitations recently? They're as much as a small car. So we went to Staples and bought the do-it-yourself kind. Here is where the big fight ensued. I suggested that we say, "no gifts please." Schuyler, on the other hand, wanted to say, "Gifts, by all means, YES please! In fact, I am registered at the following stores: Bloomingdale's, Virgin Records, Urban Outfitters" (you get the idea). Mark was appalled by the idea, and I'm embarrassed to admit I might have let it slide. Luckily Mark's wonderful assistant, Joey, printed the invites and somehow dropped the controversial line. Whoops.
The party is just the beginning, of course. We had to shop for the perfect dress, bra, panties, stockings, shoes, tiara and evening bag, and do you know that fancy clothes for 16-year-olds cost as much as fancy clothes for adults? It's true. And then there is the DJ, the MC, the security, the photographer, the videographer, the food, hair, makeup, the cake, the candles for the very special candle lighting ceremony, the AV consultant to create the multi-media slide show of Schuyler's life, the mocktails, the party bags (where, instead of giving each child an iPod as one of her less financially challenged classmates did at her Sweet 16, we're giving each child a $.99 gift card for itunes). Can someone spell h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-i-o-n?
Recently, Schuyler's good friend (we'll call her Tiffany since that's where she gets her diamonds) came to visit. Tiffany convinced Schuyler that the party we were planning was shamefully lacking in special effects and dramatic highlights. Schuyler proceeded to hit me up for a light show, but using a special, extremely rare and almost impossible to acquire strobe light machine (there are only three in the world) in deference to her epileptic friends. This would only cost another, oh, say, five thousand plus shipping. She also begged for the addition of the dark chocolate fountain, the living Statue of Liberty, the naked cowboy, Chihuly glass centerpiece with tulips flown in from Holland, and a transvestite Cher impersonator.
Excuse me, but since when do sixteen-year-olds know about Cher? Anyway, I told Schuyler absolutely NOT on any of it and reminded her that we were simple people, throwing a Sweet 16 party circa days of yore, not a modern day vomitzvah. Tiffany shook her head sadly and said, "Don't you love your daughter?" She could not believe Schuyler came from the loins of such a cheapskate. I suggested she call social services.
So the negotiations continue. I'll let you know how the party turns out in a few weeks. If anyone has experience working security, please let me know as we're looking for a few good (really big scary looking) dudes.