Bachelor Flats

I'm not even sure where to begin.

I had the most surreal experience today. The backstory is this: this rich old lady donated 100,000 dollars to our music department, and in her honor, her neighbor, a rich old man, threw a party for her for donating the money, and for himself for throwing the party. They wanted some students and professors from our school to play some chamber music for their soiree, so I played accordion in a trio a fellow composer friend wrote. There was a little program made up, and whomever put them together listed me as "Zamina, accordian." They forgot to include my last name, so it looked like I was trying to be Madonna or Prince or something. My classmates and a few profs that were there thought that was pretty funny and gave me hell for it. So we played our piece, and the two profs that were there, a married couple, played some bassoon and cello duets, and a student soprano in a fancy dress sang Schubert's Ave Maria along with a student accompanist (also in a fancy dress). It was very Anne of Green Gables all of a sudden, where they are staying with that rich lady and she takes Diana and Anne to see this opera singer singing for a similar soiree. It was all very 19th century salon-ish. We played on an open second-floor landing near a mahogany baby grand piano and a victorian-style floor lamp with tulip-shaped glass bulbs. A dean of the college asked to touch my accordian. I think she was really into it.

This is one layer.

This is another layer: when you walk in this house (which was in a gated community on the South Hill--a very well-to-do area of town, which has marvelous views of Spokane), first you see the marble floor and oriental rugs. Then you look up and see massive amounts of blue plates hanging on the dining room wall. Then you see shining crystal goblets, vases that look old and valuable (from the Ming Dynasty?), Asian sculptures, crystal chandaliers, tapestries, and Queen Anne style chairs covered in shiny navy brocaded fabric. There is so much to see that your eyes can only focus on one thing at a time. Gradually everything becomes more clear as you adapt to the lavish surroundings. You start noticing more things: a wall devoted to Renaissance-era religious art in huge gilded frames, an ornate Asian-style china cubbord filled with small jade and ivory and brass Buddhas that you would expect to see in the Chicago Institute of Art, Japanese scrolls, Chinese brush paintings, crystal-baubled wall sconces. You walk downstairs and see what looks like ornate wooden doors from a 10th century Chinese noble's house, attatched to the wall. You see big oil paintings with cowboy-western themes, and a bar filled with booze and decorated with models of vintage cars and hot-wheels in their original packaging. In the corner you spy a voo-doo walking stick with what appears to be real human hair tufting out of the top, and an animal's brushy tail hanging on the wall next to the ornately carved dark-brown stick. There is not one surface of wall left uncovered in the upstairs or downstairs areas or the in-between areas. There are collections of glass, crystal, plates, figurines, miniature paintings, large paintings, and so on and so forth. You wonder how one person has collected so much art, and how much that vase on the pedestal costs (50,000 dollars?). You imagine the crew of Antiques Roadshow running through the house and shrieking orgasmically. You feel sorry for the maids who have to dust and vacuum this house. Your first thought upon walking into the house was one of complete and utter shock: someone actually lives like this? Your second or third thoughts might be: how much is this man really worth, and how can he live like this when people can't afford food and healthcare and education?

Imagine me, walking around with a crystal glass of Chardonnay in my hand, peering at the art as if I were at the MIA or the Smithsonian, and trying to mingle with old rich people; chatting with my fellow music friends, feeling underdressed (a dark denim skirt, black-grey argyle tights, black flats, tan corduroy western-style fitted jacket, dark blue and black scarf decorated with piano keys and treble clefs) while men sport ties and suit jackets, and the women wear heels and pearls (I had no idea it was dressy dressy). Upon hearing of the real animal tail hanging on the wall, the associate conductor of the Spokane Symphony and I rush down to the equally ornate lower level to find it, like little kids who are exploring the professor's house in the Narnia series. I think surreal and pompous and lavish and over-the-top are the operative words here. But what shocked me more than the expensive art collection was the strange juxtaposition between high and low art: in front of the fireplace sat a collection of homemade felt mice-dolls in bonnets and pioneer-style prairie dresses with those cheap-looking wire frames one finds at Hobby Lobby perched on their noses. The backdrop for the dolls was a medieval-looking worn tapestry hanging from a brass rod. Similarly, two church-bazaar-looking crocheted pandas sat atop a black antique jewelry box (or was it a radio? I can't remember. But it was old and expensive-looking). Tom Clancy paperbacks were peppered throughout the house, next to gold figurines from Thailand. Miniature asian sculptures and colored glass grapes sat upon a huge flatscreen t.v. A cheap-looking robin's egg blue velour couch, complete with needle-pointed pillows, was placed below the exquisite collection of religious Renaissance art. The more I looked, the more I realized the place was badly decorated. Objects and paintings were just thrown around with no sense of aesthetic placement. You'd think for how rich this guy is that he could afford an interior designer who could inject a little feng shui into the house. It's all so misleading at first: the expensive-looking ancient art and crystal collection throws you off-guard and makes you believe for a while you're in the most exquisite palace when really it's just a new house with flat white walls and vinyl windows and dark-stained wood details to make it look fancier than it really is. I do have to admit that the view was gorgeous, though. And tonight Spokane was all misty and navy blue with rain.

Other notable things: apparently this professor (he really was a retired professor) had almost married the daughter of the Shah of Egypt (or was it Iran?). Apparently.

I was afraid to sit on the fancy-looking brocaded silk chairs, so I stood the whole time. I drank decaf out of a gold-rimmed china cup, which I almost knocked over while laughing.

The upstairs bathroom was filled with some woman's beauty products (Mary Kay?) and electric roller set. I thought this 80's something guy was single. He called his place, Bachelor Flats. "Have a look around Bachelor Flats," he says.