Because, Damn It, You're Worth It

The Jet City boom years don't have to be over, baby.

Yank off that pink satin sleep mask and drag yourself out of bed, sweetheart—you've got a big day ahead of you in this shameless town. Good thing you've arranged for that stretch SUV with "twinkle star ceiling" from Blackstone Limousine (632-5800). Life is much simpler when someone else is at the wheel and you've got rotating color fiber optics to keep you entertained.

First stop is Sophie's Doughnuts (2238 Eastlake E., 323-7132) for one of their luscious bismarcks; send the driver across the street to the coffee cart for a hot chocolate with both marshmallows and whipped cream. While you're in the neighborhood, pull up at the drive-thru window of Seattle Caviar (sorry, no talking sturgeon to take your order; 2833 Eastlake E., 323-3005) and grab a couple of their 500-gram tins of Iranian beluga. You gotta love being able to drop several grand without even getting out of the car.

Now it's off to Northgate for a quick run through Display and Costume Supply (11201 Roosevelt Way N.E., 362-4810). Yes, darling, it is rather warehousey, but they have the best tiara selection in town. Choose with care; the line between decadent and foolish is narrow indeed in the realm of accessories. Add a peacock boa; it's just this side of the foolish divide, and peacocks are mythologically reputed to help people express their innermost desires. Purrfect.

Fancy does not always equal pretty. Go get pretty at Frenchy's (3131 E. Madison, 325-9582). Choose either the full set of acrylics or a simple manicure, but be sure to get the champagne facial—drinking those bubbles is never enough. Stop in at Gypsy (2805 E. Madison, 709-8324) and toast your new beauty with—of course—a pink lady. Convince the bartender to sing "You're the One That I Want" while you strut on top of the bar. Do not become hopelessly devoted to Gypsy. No matter how lovely the food, you have other plans.

Those plans lead you to the Oceanaire Seafood Room (1700 Seventh, 267-BASS)—what could be more ruthlessly decadent than dining in a non-locally owned restaurant that serves all sorts of unsustainably caught beasties? Load up on trawl-caught prawns or the soon-to-be endangered red snapper and Chilean sea bass. Or perhaps you require a larger predator—go for swordfish, the Lion of the Sea! Drinks should be ordered from the Captain's list, and you'll need plenty, as even decadent girls have occasional twinges of guilt. Toss back a $110 glass of cognac and move on to higher ground.

Actually, a lower one: the Pampas Room (2505 First, 728-1337), where a steep, straight flight of stairs leads you into a gorgeously lush speakeasy where they're happy to make you a five-layer pousse-caf鮠Choose your seat with care and you can amuse yourself by watching the chumps in chinos start down, stop, look at themselves, and turn around. Nice to see a little fashion self-awareness in this town, is it not? Keep drinking, and send the driver off to Liquor Store 101 (1702 Fourth S., 587-5687) for a case of Veuve Cliquot—your feathers are making you all sorts of new best friends, and it's a wise woman who plans ahead for after-hours. Good thing the SUV has an ice bucket.

At closing time, have your new friends escort you up the suddenly very tricky stairs and fall into your waiting chariot. Realize you haven't even begun to explore the possibilities of its three televisions, DVD, and video player. Start pushing all the buttons you can find; become entranced by such wondrous technology. When you've finally had enough, demand a Ukrainian Joe from 13 Coins (125 Boren N., 682-2513). Sneak in the last remnants of caviar to smear on the eggs and sour cream. Have an enormously loud fight with your no-longer-best friends, and banish them from your sight. Weep.

Decide you must start being a better person immediately, and bring an omelet out to the driver. Politely request to be driven to the 7:30 Matins service at the Byzantine Catholic Church (1305 Lander, 329-9219), where you can kiss lovely icons, weep some more, and wallow in shame over your conspicuous consumption. Swear before all those lovely icons to never again eat the unborn babies of endangered fish, never again drive a vehicle that gets three miles to the gallon, never again force bartenders to sing Olivia Newton-John songs. Decadence can be so hard on a girl.

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