My Louboutin-wounded ankle from stepping out of the taxi with about 27 wooden hangars, after my NY event
I made it to Cannes! Now we all know I tend to procrastinate and there’s always some degree of mischief I gravitate toward. But I have to admit, that in this particular case, I have been preparing for this trip for what seems like forever. Yet, it’s been a comedy of errors, as usual! It all started with an honorable invitation to a very elite International Luxury Travel Market. How I got invited is still a bit if a mystery, but as I lie, foot elevated and iced, in my massive suite in this gorgeous 5+ star boutique just a block from Palais des Festivals, with the most amazing champagne-included complimentary breakfast, I am certainly not complaining. I’m participating in a conference, which required me to read 1600 bios, then choose and rank 60 travel suppliers (i.e, hotel or airline) that I care to meet with, in order of personal importance, for 20-minute appointments, each. I will have 50 in 3 days. Then after-parties, at least three every night. This is no brag, it’s been a ton of work. I still have the business to keep up! But I had been practicing my Rosetta Stone, planned to do my newsletter last weekend, would pack last Wednesday, do an event on Thursday, and end-of-month invoicing and reports on the plane! Voila! Pas de probleme.
Originally, I decided to go to Amsterdam after Cannes since I’ve not been and have clients that go regularly. I swear it has nothing to do with the recent lift of their ban on tourists partaking in the local… um, culture. Local culture, that’s it! To my defense, I am scheduled for drinks and dinner with a client of a client who lives there.
Then I was meant to head home before the Berkeley festivities begin. But a couple months ago, a very important client asked me to be onsite in London to manage a three-day event for their entire company of 31 people. It just happened to fall right in between Amsterdam and the wedding. My naivety and ego gracefully accepted with nothing but an ‘I can do it’ attitude. Realizing this meant that I would now have to go straight from London to San Fran, having no time to stop home in NY for even a night. That is a lot to pack for! Conference and cocktail parties all week, followed by kicking it in Amsterdam, followed by managing biz meetings, hosting team-building then another cocktail party, then my appropriate wedding attire. I decided to pamper myself by hiring personal assistance for the London bit.
As a few of you gorgeous people are fully aware, sometimes that ego morphs itself into anxiety! And your continual support are what actually got me to France. xoxo
Now I am not shy about over-packing, but it was a bit scary waking up the day of this whirlwind tour in excruciating pain, having not packed a thing yet and unable to move my left foot. This was Friday. Here’s what happened:
Just to keep it interesting, my same client for the London gig, hired me for a gig in NY on Thursday night. Thankfully, that office party was executed better than I imagined and all was well. Until the inevitable after-party. I was in my best fancy office party dress and Christian Louboutin stilettos. I have to play the part, which I might add, the shoes did not go unnoticed. The after-party ensued a little internal employee drama, which I somehow felt compelled to help fix, making it a later than expected night. But, after gathering all my things (radio, hangars, computer, etc) and grabbing a taxi, honestly only a couple cocktails in, when I stepped out of the taxi on my cute little E. 74th Street, I just stepped wrong out the left door and sort of slow-motion fell forward onto one knee… not hard, no scrape even. Bobby, my homeless guy was on the heat grill in front of my building and even came over to help me. “Liz, are you okay… are you wasted again?” He is so sweet when he’s not on crack. I was actually fine, Bobby helped me up, I went upstairs and washed my hands 🙂 and thought hmm, I might ice my left foot. Then I was called in for duty, my friend needed an ear and helpful analysis after his aforementioned drama. I needed to pack! But, what are you gonna do!? When someone needs you, you just deal.
I went to bed late, ice pack on my dresser (warm) and awoke in this crazy pain with a swollen foot. Several tears, a little panic, and cries for help later… my own personal team of experts had me up and running by 1:00pm. My sweet little pseudo-daughter, I could not have made it without her ibuprofen and getting me an ace bandage and red bull. Total kismet, she just happened to have an early two-hour lunch and her mom’s 800mg ibu on her!
Technically, I don’t ‘have to’ do anything until Tuesday, for the conference. I had planned to tour, shop and go for fabulous jogs along the Mediterranean Sea, but I knew if I could just GET to Cannes, I should be okay and could nurture my injury just as well (or as its turning out, better) whilst here. My sis Kath’s advice to force some boots on for ankle support was priceless.
I slept, iced my foot, and worked all yesterday, until 2:00am local time. Now I’ve finished this lovely French breakfast, after sleeping late, and look forward to my spa day. Or, rehabilitation-due-to-swollen-foot day. Trust me, I’d rather be jogging. Or at least jogging before spa!
But, I did it! 3 tall boots, 3 jackets, 3 suits and 7 jeans. I did it.
When Mrs. Roper, diligently researching custom cake options for the London party called me on Friday, it could have been her effervescent “well if anyone can do it, you can!”, coupled with the house call, pep-talks, instructions for care, and good old-fashioned support that got me up and packing. I’m very fortunate and grateful.
A glass of champagne-for-breakfast in, I wonder, almost seriously, why do I not live in France!!? Un jour, je le ferai.
Wish you all a happy Sunday! My journey has barely just begun, but you know I will make the most of it.
And yes, I will apply heat at night now! 😉
Breakfast at Five Hotel in Cannes, perfectionnement!
