This evening I was at the 5th anniversary party for The London West Hollywood, held on its famous rooftop. I want to thank The London for having invited me and I appreciated being able to attend.
But I blew it big time.
On my first pass around the roof I saw a woman who resonated with me. Not sexually, and not in a way that I wanted her to feel uncomfortable. But because she was by far, and I believe I have the resume to back up this declaration, the best dressed and best looking woman at the whole event.
Her dress was white lace, mid-thigh. She had a slip on under it (proper and all that much better) so all one could see of skin through the dress was the bottom four or five inches above her hem, mid-thigh. I realized it right away, stopped, made eye contact and smiled, and then continued on my pass around the huge rooftop. I noted that she appeared to be with some male friends and felt I had acted like a gentleman in not interrupting her.
When I came around a second time some minutes later, she was every bit as stunning, well dressed, and beautifully presented as one might expect. Just not what one would expect to see on the rooftop of a packed party. About thirty minutes later I was speaking to a photographer friend of mine and I told him about her and asked that he come with me to find her – thinking I would introduce myself, explain that I had 16,500 some followers on Twitter, and ask her permission to take her photograph and post it as an example of what I thought a well dressed, beautiful woman should look like at an event that really didn’t call for that kind of attention to detail (and this is no snipe at The London – when you invite this many people, you get what you get). And maybe I would have found the courage to give her my card, and introduce myself to her friends, explain what I was asking for, and pay them all a compliment.
We didn’t find her and I never met her and I never got to share her image. Shame on me.
Life is too short to let this happen again. And I hope I will learn that lesson.