A reader urged me to reach back into the recesses of my youth (already distant enough!) and tell about a long-ago meandering. Well, the perfect subject came to mind with the recent reopening of The Plaza hotel in New York City.

It has undergone a $400 million (isn't that the budget of a small nation somewhere?) renovation, and has been returned to past glory. And it occurs to me, maybe The Plaza hotel that welcomed me into its palm-lined arms back in the late 60s was, indeed, the hostelry during its halcyon days.
Well, that's how I remember it, anyway.
The year is fuzzy, but I was wishing I were a teenager -- wasn't quite there. My older sister and her friend, Bonnie had already made the transition from girlhood to young-lady/prom-queen material. They wore stockings and pumps, and I was still gangly in socks and saddle shoes. They had developed that something extra --- you can use your imagination for the meaning if you wish -- and I was still the admiring child.
I admired everything the older girls did. I thought their hair, worn in long flips or pulled up into French twists, was strikingly sophisticated. I though the Jean Nate cologne they doused on was quite heavenly. And the fact that they poured their trim selves into tight, STRAIGHT skirts --yep, I was wearing pleats --- was just to-die-for.
Well, on one glorious weekend in October my parents announced that they were taking the three of us for a weekend in NYC. It was my parents wedding anniversary, so it was a special trip.
To make it REALLY special, they bought for all three of us --- YES, even moi -- a fake fur leopard skin jacket with leather trim! I died and went straight to heaven at the sight. I was wearing the same fuzzy, jungle-printed cropped jacket that the older girls were wearing. Could life get any better?
When we got to Manhattan, my parents spared no expense. We checked into The Plaza hotel, and had a suite -- a private room for them (still wondering why.... after all they were PARENTS... geez), and an adjoining bedroom/parlor where the three of us shared quarters.
But first we went to Trader Vic's and had Shirley Temples (also called Roy Rogers if you happened to be of the male persuasion) decked out with little paper umbrellas skewered through a multiplicity of cherries. And we ate itsy bitsy puu-puu platters... tiny spare ribs served over a little fire pot. Oh, how glorious.
Then we went to the Latin Quarter --- a big splashy night club -- where we saw a comic --- Corbett Monica -- and what seemed like a billion gorgeous chorus girls decked out in feathers, Las Vegas-style. The weekend also included a Broadway show. The late-great Bert Parks pranced up and down the stage reprising his role in the second cast of the former monster hit "The Music Man." (I can still hear him bellowing, "You got trouble... right here in River City....").
Now you might think all of that would be hard to top. But the absolute best part of that long ago weekend was the night (when we should have been sleeping) in The Plaza hotel. After my parents had "retired" for the evening (that's what they used to call it back then...) the three of us girls waited until there was silence. A ha! The parents were asleep.
Up we jumped, and traded nightgowns for the dresses that we had packed ,and on top of the dresses we plunked those completely obvious leopard-skin jackets. What a sight! Three inexperienced jungle princesses (well, two princesses and one half-pint) on the prowl in The Plaza hotel.
First stop was the Persian Room. A woman named Hildegarde was there, playing piano with gloves on! How odd! (I later became familiar with this legend of "the room"... and learned that playing with gloves on was her calling card to fame.)
When we had heard enough of the ivories, we moved on to a ballroom where, lo and behold, a raucous wedding reception was under way. I suppose the sight of three pre-pubescent girls in party dresses and leopard jackets was enough to make the door attendant's heart soften. "C'mon in girls," said he. And in we went. After all, surely we could just fade into the crowd ---- WEARING LEOPARD SKIN JACKETS AND PARTY DRESSES........ hahahaha!
No matter, we danced the night away.... polka'd until my socks were down around my ankles and my sister's French twist released into a pony tail. And as for Bonnie, well, she always said that was the greatest night of her life.
I don't know what time we got to bed. But we were there, sleepy "angels," when my parents checked on us in the morning.
The Plaza hotel may have been home to that rascallion Eloise. But she had nothing on the girls from Philly dressed like an endangered species.
Raaaaaawl........