The Prince of Wales, having given his silly younger son Prince Harry, 17, a good hard spanking, so to speak, or a deserved kick in the butt, depending on how you look at it, is looking forward to pleasanter things. Like the annual gathering in London the week of June 17-23 of his Prince of Wales Foundation based in Washington D.C. It gives him a chance to greet the group of good-looking, generous Americans who support the foundation that in turn supports the British and American charities that are the Prince’s favorites.
For those who remark that, not to criticize, members of the group and millions of others everywhere dip into the celebratory champagne from time to time, and do many of the same things as silly Harry, so why be so hard on the kid? Well, keep in mind, almost all of them are over 17. Way over — and all of them adorable.
Also way over is the three-year romance between Peter Phillips, the attractive 24-year-old son of Princess Anne and Queen Elizabeth’s grandson, and American Elizabeth Iorio, 26, the daughter of a rich Massachusetts pharmaceutical family. She is on the United States Equestrian Team and met Peter in 1998 when she was being coached by his father, Captain Mark Phillips, Princess Anne’s first husband. Ain’t nobody horsier than these people.
The young lovers had just moved into Peter’s million-dollar flat in North London. Maybe that was a mistake. Elizabeth is the one who called the whole thing off saying, for publication, that she was not exactly slamming the door but that Petesie had a lot of growing up to do. (Well, she is two years older). She’s moved to North Carolina to continue her passion for riding, and Peter is trying to forget about it all working as an executive for the Jaguar Formulas One racing team. There are still those around who are hoping for a happy ending on the theory that love is lovelier the second time around. Back to the stables.
Glamorous Salma Hayek, fresh from finishing “Frida,” the upcoming Miramax movie that tells us maybe everything we ever wanted to know about the wonderfully exotic, wonderfully weird Mexican artist Frida Kahlo, will present an award at Amnesty International USA’s Media Spotlight Awards on Jan. 28 at the Chelsea Piers. Amnesty International, the human rights organization, is celebrating its 40th anniversary, and everyone is ever so excited. You will be thrilled to hear that Hayek has removed the unibrow she wore in the flick the better to emulate la Kahlo, whose nonstop stretch of coal-black hair that extended like beetles over her eyes never, but never, came in contact with tweezers. Instead, Salma will wear one of her sexy trademark outfits at the party. Just knew you’d be glad.
Ashley Judd is also in “Frida,” playing a glamorous party-giving, freewheeling hostess to Kahlo and her adored Mexican artist husband, Diego Rivera, who was as bull-like and burly as he was ugly and talented. But “There’s no accounting for tastes,” said the old lady as she kissed the vaca. And the toro.
Other attendees/honorees at the Piers include Donna Hanover, ABC’s Ted Koppel, Eve Ensler, Elie Wiesel, Marisa Tomei and so many others whose eyebrows — and hearts — are all in the right place.
Mrs. Henry W. (Anya) Bagley of New York, Paris and Palm Beach, whilst in her Paris apartment this summer, discovered a new young designer, Stephane Saunier. Anya has three ballgowns run up by Mr. Saunier and has yet to decide which to wear to the Red Cross Ball in Palm Beach on Jan. 26, of which she is the honorary vice chair. She will be escorted to same by Count Pierre Cheremetieff, who will be arriving from Paris just to take her there.
You should know that the airport in Moscow is named for the Cheremetieff family. At the end of the 19th century, Count Pierre’s great-grandfather, who was also Count Pierre, fell in love with a beautiful peasant girl and, after obtaining the czar’s permission, married her and built her a palace and a theater in which she appeared to great advantage. Sort of makes you want to cry with joy. You see, in those benighted days, permission from the czar was necessary before a marriage could take place between a serf and a nobleman. Who else would tell you these things?
At Greg Jordan’s dinner party for Leigh and Bill Mathes of San Francisco — he’s a financier, she’s a fund-raiser — everyone sat down to dinner in the long hall of Greg’s interior design studio, which is painted spice pink and a perfect foil for the long table skirted in Scalamandre ruby taffeta. (Greg is designing a signature line of upholstered furniture for Scalamandre and its 35 showrooms in America and London and he is tickled spice pink). Running down the table was a collection of antique mercury glass bowls filled with bouquets of ruby and lavender roses. Strewn along the table were antique George III candlesticks and silver walnuts. You would have loved it. Glorious Food provided the endive salad and watercress salad, quail and pheasant pie, the butter pound cake and the creme anglaise. The Matheses went back to San Francisco, full and happy. Silver walnuts?