Madame Olga began muttering something under her breath in gypsy to the effect of "Fucking debutantes, they do not understand the sacredness of the moment." But everyone in the room just thought this was part of her gypsy spirit chant.

Just as the would-be debutante will fret and fuss over every detail till all is perfect, so will the fastidious feline patiently toil until every whiskertip is in place.

...each of us from the seance stood alone. Like so many pillars of salt, we had tried to look back and failed. And in the eyes of the others who shared the pale, flat sky with us, there was sometimes suspicion, sometimes a little fear.

I'm a wandering gypsy.

Gypsy moths.

The condition of inebriation is very nearly a universal experience and the words come from all our societal venues-the fraternity house, debutante ball, literary luncheon, longshoreman's bar, the Wild West.