one hundred ninety eight

i've been pretty cooped up with my lame-o eye ulcer and al yuen knew that. so this morning he decides to surprise me with a daddy daughter brunch date. they're my fav. he calls at 10 and i'm awake but still in bed. he says to hurry and get dressed because he's on his way to pick me up. i'm groggy but thrilled as i trade my pink polka dot booty shorts for black juicy warm ups and throw a peach bebe deep-v tee over my tank top. havianas are barely slipped onto my feet as i run out the door- hair in a pony tail, not a lick of makeup, but sporting my favorite sassy shades. i ask where we're going and he says its a surprise... imagine my supremely underdressed horror as we pull into La Caille of all places. it was not my finest moment as the gg-esque socialite i am known to be. dress for the occasion. fashion forward, but situationally appropriate. this my friends was an utter wardrobe disaster. granted, i felt a little better as i passed the man in khaki shorts and a RL Blue line piqued polo, but as i sat on the 22 acre grounds of a magnificently decadent french chateau surrounded by sauntering peacocks and ponds poised with giant white swans, i couldn't help but feel that my 3 course (more-than-i-spend-on-a-pair-of-rock-&-republic-denim breakfast) would have been more thoroughly enjoyed had i been in my element: sipping my mimosa in a white eyelet sundress with a sweet-as-candy, killer pair of manolos or christian louboutins. this my dear, requires adaquate planning and preparation. but somehow the fact that it was a complete and total surprise made it the most charming and delightful brunch to date. it was delish, from the amuse bouche, carmel walnut croissants, and creme brulee baked petite pain a la francaise, to the swan profiterole for dessert. well done daddy, well done indeed.