High life
Not two too many
Taki
Gstaad The Eagle Club as well as the Palace Hotel closed last Sunday, the latter staying open one extra day for the president of Cameroon to get up enough energy to check out. With the twin-closing came the snows yet again, deep powder and brilliant sunshine being the order of the week. In the meantime, I hear St Moritz is doing a Gstaad, and is badly in need of the white stuff.
The good news is that the Olden Hotel has been sold to the good guys — Italian, French and Swiss — which means the tow- elheads will not be eating their dates inside Gstaad's oldest inn. The new owner is a friend of mine and he will make it a great success. He once did wonders for the Palace, and he resuscitated the Rialto, which means the Olden will be a breeze.
The Eagle Club is another matter. Every closing day there is a band and a party, as well as a speech by the president, Comte Edourd Decazes. This year was a bad one, announced the chief, and no one was sur- prised. During the month of January there were days when only one member showed up. That is when I cheered, but got as many laughs as Salman Rushdie has had shots fired at him.
The trouble with the Eagle is that when I joined in 1958 it was among the most exclu- sive clubs in the world, with 32 founder members and another 30 or so life mem- bers, and now there are 714 of the latter. The entry fee for new members is 25,000 Swiss francs, which means that one has to be well off to join. In my not so humble opinion, it is impossible to find 714 nice people in a chic resort like Gstaad, and that is where all the flotsam and jetsam of the glitzy set come in.
What the committee should have done in order for the club to be able to survive without allowing the Barbarians in, was to ask the original members to cough up more funds. I for one would gladly have done so, as would most of the friends I spoke to. Now it's too late. Rules are rules, they tell me, but in the good old days, rules were there to be broken. After my divorce from Cristina de Caraman — the wife of a life member keeps her membership — a ques- tion was raised about Alexandra Schoen- burg, then in her twenties, posing as my wife in order not to pay the fee. David Niven said he'd take care of it. The then president Benoist D'Azy asked David, 'and what will happen if Taki changes next year, will that one too go in for free?' No,' said the great Niven, 'two is all he gets,' and it's been like this ever since.
Some of us have been talking about starting something of our own, but it's as likely to happen as Martin Amis is to play professional basketball. And speaking of arrogant whimps, I see Rushdie has once again attacked the West's 'cynicism' because we have not gone to war against Iran in order for him to live more comfort- ably. The old adage about the heat and the kitchen applies here. Rushdie knew damn well the mullahs would not take his unreadable book sitting down, but chose to publicise the offending parts again and again. When the towelheads finally clicked, he began to whimper. He's still doing it. And accusing the West of being money- minded. It is like his buddy Amis who used to bellow about the West's nuclear arsenal and how it endangered his • children's future. Children of divorced parents are far more endangered, says Professor Taki. But back to less hypocritical subjects. Despite the collapse of the dollar and rise of the nouveaux, Gstaad is still a magical place — out of season. Deep powder ski- ing, fang lauf and tennis every afternoon keeps one in shape for the night. I am seri- ously contemplating retirement.
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