Neue Nationalgalerie, Thursday, 7:15 PM

Tell me, how did you manage to snag invitations for THREE gallery openings in one night? We’re the only ones left in town? I hardly believe THAT. Georg and Andreas are in Paris, true. And Achim’s in Rio. Or is it Australia? Who can keep track! Oh, don’t feel so guilty about reaping the spoils – consider it compensation for enduring a Berlin winter! Besides, who needs the beach when you have Paul Klee?

But don’t tell me you come to these things for the ART! I certainly don’t. I find it much more interesting to look at the people. For example, have you ever noticed that Germans never have scuffed shoes? They’re always perfectly shod. Apparently it’s a national obsession. But I don’t mind - I’ve always loved good shoes. In my genes, wouldn’t you know: my grandfather was a shoemaker. Apparently, he fixed Gomulka’s boots in Siberia during the war. That’s how he survived. Of course, I learned this last week. Don’t you wish there were access to information legislation for family secrets?

And didn’t anyone ever tell you how to walk at these things? You must PREEN. Walk from the hip bones, like a dancer. I tell you, with the right walk and polished shoes, you can go almost anywhere. And you have to have a really well tailored jacket. Ideally, bespoke. Hand tailoring is the ultimate mark of status. Actually, the ULTIMATE mark of status is inheriting couture from a dead noble relative and then having the garment reworked to fit you like a glove. I saw it on TV once… But if your ancestors worked the plow, as mine did, you have to make due with good fabric and an expert tailor. Ideally, the jacket should be slightly worn and paired with expensive frayed jeans and interesting boots. But you can never look too put together, otherwise people will think you have to work for a living, and that would never do. If you can’t inherit, then marry well. If that doesn’t work, pretend.

And you may look down at the floor to observe the shoes, but that is the only excuse. Look at the paintings head on, and keep going.

Well. All this pontificating has made me mighty thirsty. ‘Tis a pity they don’t have free booze at these things anymore. Economic crisis… Let’s go down to the “Heile Welt” and have a gin and tonic.

I am tired of looking at paintings head on.