The Drawing Room at Clouds, Country Life,  Nov. 19th, 1904

Henry Yorke (1905-1973) wrote novels under the nom de plume Henry Green with titles like "Loving," "Living," and ""Party-Going" but none called "Working" although I suppose he could have.  "Are you working, darling?" however, is no longer just an amusing title of a novel by a once very handsome and still very clever actor.

The news blackout in Iran is quite real, of course, but sometimes it feels as though another sort of news filtering is going on closer to home.  Or perhaps anecdotal evidence is simply more compelling, more real somehow, than the so-called statistical reports in the mainstream media which can seem so at odds, so unrelated to one's daily reality.  

How, in other words, does one interpret what one sees and hears?  All up and down Robertson and Melrose, for instance, old stores are being pulled down and shiny smart new ones are going up in a kind of mad parlor game of show-room musical chairs.  Waterworks was there, Rose Tarlow used to be there, now Donghia is here, Heritage is no longer there, Rose is there, Waterworks is there, Waterworks is bankrupt --

What?

"Darling, they filed Chapter 11 last month," a friend informs me with a hint of impatience. 

"So did Z Gallerie, Hendricks Furniture, Shabby Chic and Fortunoff's," another member of our little social club pipes in, eliciting looks of confusion from some, disdain from others.

"We were not talking about malls, darling."

"Fortunoff's is sad, though," someone else admits, as a sort of compromise.

"Everyone's out of work," my designer friend announces.

"But they're expanding the Pacific Design Center," I naively counter. 

"Business is dead," a club member snaps at me.  Others join in. 

"All the important clients are cutting back --"

"-- cancelling jobs altogether --"

"-- closing their country house --"

"-- cut the moorings on the yacht and let it drift out to sea --"

"-- still hasn't paid me for the kitchen redo in Tahoe."

"D________ has a warehouse full of furniture he was just about to ship to (name inaudible in dramatic sotto voce) right when they lost everything to Bernie."

Everyone gasps in unison.  There is even a choked sob.  A devout member of the group crosses himself. 

"But I just drove by the old Chandler mansion," I try to explain.  "They're gutting it -- "  

I am cut off with the wave of a hand.  "They had no choice.  You should have seen what S__________ did to it.  So unbelievably tacky."

"So some people are still working," I argue.

"No one is working," they assure me.

"They say the unemployment numbers are stabilizing," I point out, but I become dizzy from the eye-rolling.

Far from being better informed, by the end of the conversation I am dazed and confused.

I have decided to reread Henry Green this weekend. 

Now, tell me.  What have you heard?