With the coffee steaming next to my netbook, I sat down to write my homage to The Biddeford Ball. Why do words fail me? For a woman of my particular socio-economic station who never went to a high school prom, I’ve managed to pay my way into a few high-stepping New England social events. Sure, I’ll never attend the Viennese Opera Ball, but I have memories of sipping seafood bisque shots from the Top of the Hub and daintily nibbling skewered something or others at Boston’s Four Seasons, the Ritz-Carlton, and the Fairmont Copley Plaza.
That was then, this is now.
The Biddeford Ball had a little bit of all the things that made those swanky Boston events vivid in my memory.
There was a red carpet entrance and an air of anticipation as guests waited for the doors to open. Tasteful arrangements of stunning flowers popped up in unexpected places. Lots and lots of tasty food was served up happily on plates (not sticks or shot glasses) and no one looked cross-wise when I reached for a second scone with way too much local butter from Biscuits & Company.
There was a little Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion-like drama when a masked woman shamelessly stole a chair from our table in the dining area. (“I know. And what a BLEEP, taking your hamburger, I mean, what was that?” – Michele Weinberger.)
Of course there were beverages of all kinds, including coffee from Maine Coast Roast. Because this event was in a state of approximately a million people, I just happened to know the owner of the coffee company and we got caught up on life in the twenty-five years since we last saw each other.
There was glamorous music, low-key and quiet in the beginning and increasing in tempo and volume as the evening gained momentum.
There were VIP tables and VIP finger foods and everyone felt like a VIP whether they had a table or not because there were professional photographers and media mavens covering the event.
This gallery of photographs gives you a good overview.
Basically, The Biddeford Ball had it all. And then some, with a mill tour we took to the “bottom of Biddeford” guided by long-time mill employee Pete Lamontagne.
I mean no disrespect to all the other wonderful parties I’ve been to over the years. Yet, all week I’ve been trying to figure out why I had so much more fun at The Biddeford Ball than at other similar events I’ve attended. The only conclusion I can reach is that I’m finally in the place where I’m supposed to be. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to figure it all out.
But then, that’s what this blog is all about, isn’t it?
Find your way.