Faux Future

Iwent to the Academy Awards party at Spago’s in Hollywood and ate a little chocolate statue shaped like Oscar. I mingled. I schmoozed. I kissed oxygen. I saw a Hanson. The evening reeked of glitz, but there was a hint of melancholy in our martinis.

This was the last event to be held at the famous restaurant above the Sunset Strip, the one with the same view you’d get if you looked down your nose.

It is being closed because its more en vogue successor, Spago’s in Beverly Hills, is packing in the smart set like so many smug sardines.