High life
Who shall be queen?
Taki
nsiders of the philanthropic set have been talking about it for months, if not years. Some have gone so far as to call it `the burning question of our time'. The Big Bagel's social brigade is locked in the greatest struggle of succession since the Wars of the Roses. The prize? The position of principal icon of American senior pul- chritude, worthy opponent of Jackie Onas- sis as the world's greatest widow and Queen of the Bagel, the title which cur- rently adorns the brow of Brooke Astor, a lady nearing her nineties.
Brooke Astor is, of course, the Amer- ican lady who married Vincent Astor, an American cousin of the English Astors, and who was lucky to inherit his fortune when he dropped dead six months to the day after his wedding night. In the Bagel, she is considered to be la grande dame of the private jet set, the eleemosynary non- pareil. But for some time now La Astor has
been dropping hints about retirement from fund-raising, a threat that has those who pay to go to the right functions (however wrong their motives) shoulder-charging each other to ensure a front-of-the-line position. (This is how the padded shoulder came about.) They are also reaching for their cheque-books.
Ironically, most of the best-known suitors do not stand a chance. The reason for this is that too many of them suffer from a condition anthropologically percep- tive souls refer to as 'wretched excess', a disease that has affected Big Bagel socialites not unlike the way the Black Death affected mediaeval Europe. So, who may this lady be? After exhaustive re- search in all of the Bagel's five boroughs and thousands of interviews with people who matter, here, as a special service to Spectator readers, are the favourites: Annette de la Renta is the official odds-on favourite, as she has been a semi-official crown princess to Astor throughout the Eighties. Annette has good breeding, second-generation money (an unheard-of thing among the suitors) and a famous husband in the right business. (It is considered a far, far better thing to be a dress designer than a heart surgeon.) But she will not wear the crown. My spies tell me Annette has waited for too long. And like the Duke of Windsor she will give it all up for love. I predict she will end her days with Oscar de la Renta in the Dominican Republic among the bananas.
Pretty Blaine Trump has been coming up fast on the rail, but she too will end up an also-ran. Like Brazil, Blaine will always be the future queen, and she has the added burden of Donald Trump as brother-in- law. `Having Donald and Ivana as in-laws would disqualify Queen Victoria,' was the way an acid-tongued Park Avenue hostess put it.
Judy Taubman and Susan Gutfreund have thrown away their chances by being pushier than Sisyphus. Judy speaks only of jewels and dresses, while Susy talks only in French. Their unpopularity with the mas- ses makes them as likely to succeed Brooke as Yitshak Shamir is to sign a professional basketball contract.
After the elimination of Judy and Susan, the next pair of twins to go are the Basses, Anne and Mercedes. Anne stumbled by being too up-tight, a fashion victim, and by being friendly with the egregious art dealer Richard Feigen. Mercedes has let Sid Bass's billions go to her hair. And she is, after all, an Iranian, and no towel-head should reign over the Bagel.
Carolyne Roehm and Gayfryd Steinberg are considered too plebeian to be even in the running, which leaves only one serious contender: Mrs William F. Buckley, a lady of refined tastes and impeccable breeding, and one as likely to run off with the Donald as her husband Bill is to be indicted for insider trading. The succession will be as natural as going from A to B.
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