As a journalist and editor, I’ve been invited to oodles of fund-raising events, awards dinners, and various industry galas during the last forty years. I’ve even produced more than my share of  gatherings. At last, I’ve determined that I prefer intimate affairs. Intimate as in no more than 20 people.

Doesn't this look like fun?

Smushed into a room with hundreds of people doesn’t thrill me anymore. I’m not sure it ever thrilled me much, but when you’re 30, you think you’re the only one in the room anyway.

I’m always amused when I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone and she’s sneaking glances over my shoulder to see if a more interesting guest has arrived. I was once at a cocktail party where I watched Hillary Clinton working the room with her eyes. I guess that’s what politicians have to do.

The big black tie events amuse me most. We all fuss over what we’ll wear, but everyone looks the same. Who can tell one black dress from another in the first place?

Sitting down to dinner with 500 people is another hysterical scenerio. The tables have 2.3 inches of space between them, 10 people at a table are trying to show intense interest in each other and the dreadful food is complemented by usually dreadful presentations and boring speeches.I try my darndest to make at least one contact during the evening so it isn’t a total waste of time.

Frankly, I’d rather be home, all comfy and cozy in my flannel PJS, playing a mean game of Scrabble. FOF women party in their own special ways.