High life
Hot tomato
Taki
Vivian Clore is a very rich woman who — like most rich women — inherited her vast fortune from her father, in this case Charles Clore, a shoe salesman. Vivian gives away millions to Israeli charities, almost as much as she spends on parties to celebrate the birthdays of her long-time squeeze, Jocelyn Stevens, of English Her- itage fame.
Vivian is short, fat and extremely loud, but also known to have a very good heart and a good nature despite a terrible temper and a bullying streak. I have known her for far too long, but have never been a friend. She's much too tough and demanding traits that I dislike in men and absolutely abhor in a woman. She once told me that her brother might have to go to jail and smilingly asked me whether he would get buggered or not. Even I was shocked at such disloyalty, but in any case her brother did not do porridge.
Needless to say, because of her generosi- ty and party-giving, Vivian has her staunch defenders. About five years ago, in a fit of temper, she threw out a couple staying in her chalet as her guests because they had gone to her fridge and eaten some toma- toes. I wrote about the incident and she and her squeeze were not pleased.
Later, however, I saw the couple who had been removed holding hands with the removers as if nothing had ever happened between them. The trouble with Clore and Stevens is that they both can dish it out, but squeal like stuffed pigs when it's dished back.
Having said all that, they are an extreme- ly amusing pair, intelligent and outspoken, and most important of all, never boring. They can also get into great rows, or rather La Clore can. Take, for example, the bash she gave for Jocelyn's 60th birthday last year in Gstaad, a party I was not invited to and, not being English, did not crash. One of the guests caught fire and was taken to hospital with serious burns. His life was not in danger but he was in great pain. Roger Moore, the actor, and his wife, who had been at the party but who did not know him well, visited him in hospital as a good- will gesture. Vivian, who was not at all responsible for the accident, went ballistic. She rang the Moores and told them not to interfere. Louisa Moore, no slouch when it comes to answering back, has been giving a piece of her hot Italian mind to Vivian ever since, so Gstaad, the main battlefield, has been enjoying the fray for a year.
Last week, while La Clore was in India overseeing the Bombay riots, the Eagle Club held elections. Before she left for the subcontinent, Clore had sworn that she would replace Roger Moore on the Eagle's committee, but as it turned out, she received only seven votes. Two were cast by Zographos and Aliki Goulandris, more as a Thermopylae gesture than anything else. Clore may have lotsa moolah, but she has stepped on too many toes to win a free election. Moore, on the other hand, is as polite as a politician, which as everyone knows wins at the ballot box.
Oh yes, I almost forgot, some woman had lodged a complaint against me charg- ing that I had told her to go and f— her- self. I had done nothing of the sort, but nine months to the day I supposedly told her to reproduce herself, she did. Now that's what I call timing. If any of you out there need to be impregnated, forget the sperm bank. Just come to the Eagle and try and take my table from me, as the woman in question did. But don't attempt to raid the Clore fridge.
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