Mac and I sailed to Mustique with Bob and Maranne Berlinghoff on their yacht Apogee to attend Colin Tennant’s much-anticipated “Peacock Ball”. We took with us the costumes our host had kindly sent over to Bequia in a suitcase. The theme for the ball was “India”, and Colin had sent me a rather see-through harem outfit to wear. I had always hated outfits that showcased my underwear, but in this case NO underwear was not going to be an option!
Mac and I would be spending the night with Gustav Dalevalle at his villa on Mustique. Gustav was an older charismatic Italian who had befriended us during visits to Bequia, and we had enjoyed his hospitality on Mustique on more than one occasion. We arrived at Dalevalle House in time for the sunset, which from Gustav’s porch was a magnificent sight.
Mac and I were dressed and ready for the costume ball. We wended our way to the Great House, Colin Tennant’s waterfront mansion, and were ushered in by the staff along a torch-lit path. I was shocked to see that the male staff wore nothing but coconut shells clamped over their privates while the females were bare-breasted and wore grass skirts. I am sure more than a few of the staff were quite dismayed to see Mac and me, I recognized several and was embarrassed for them; those same girls would cover their bathing suits before appearing at a beach on Bequia, while at their work-place across the channel they were expected to oil and expose their breasts to strangers. This for sure was not the West Indies I knew, and I figured I was in for more than one surprise at the Peacock Ball!
There were a lot of guests at the party, many of them very famous, and the costumes were pretty flamboyant! I assumed Princess Margaret had not realized that the theme was “India” because she came as herself, a regular Princess. Raquel Welsh had also missed the mark, she broke protocol by making her grand entrance AFTER Princess Margaret, and was dressed as a glamorous, non-Indian movie star. Colin was anxiously attending to the seating plan, over which many arguments broke out. Every guest wanted to be seated at an “A” table, especially the press members assigned to cover the party, and it took a long time for everyone to be seated at the beautifully decorated tables.
Bob and Maranne were seated at the same table as Mac and me (no, it was not an “A” table!) and we sat back to enjoy the dinner. I recall that the food was Indian, so spicy it scorched my throat, and I noticed that the other guests weren’t eating it. I assumed it was because the food was inedible until I heard about the line-ups for the bathrooms; white powder was being sniffed by the ladies and gents, hence the lack of appetite! The man across from me was SO upset by where he had been seated, he was there to cover the party for a magazine and wanted to be at one of the “A” tables. He actually leaned across the table and asked me point-blank, “are you ANYBODY?” I replied, “of course I’m somebody, I’m Judy Simmons!” The man looked at me blankly before snapping his fingers and saying, “Ah! Simmons’ Mattresses!” Drawing myself up haughtily I answered, “Not at all, I am the Pizza Queen of Bequia!” Maranne, when asked the same question, said “We are quite poor but we’re very happy!”
Poor Mac spent a lot of time trying to avoid some of the male guests, they obviously “batted for the other team” if you catch my drift, and Mac was soooo pretty! Mac, not wanting to join the extremely long lineup for the bathroom, went to find a coconut tree to hide behind and discovered too late that he had an adoring audience. That freaked Mac out, he was very much a Ladies’ man! Meanwhile I had managed to work up enough champagne-induced courage to talk to Princess Margaret, who couldn’t have been nicer, and to Raquel Welsh, who could have tried a little harder!
Throughout the evening, which included sword-swallowing and limbo dancing by the pool, a beautifully lit-up Wind Star sailed back and forth in front of the villa. The work crew had succeeded, the sails were unfurled, and the ship looked lovely each time she slipped by.
I was glad that we had been invited to Colin Tennant’s Peacock Ball, it was an outrageously lavish affair that must have cost him the better half of his inheritance and I had a wonderful time. I was also glad that we would be sailing back to the “real” world the next day; although close to each other distance-wise Bequia and Mustique were worlds apart.
