Sylvia's Dress

Sylvia There is very little that Sylvia is not up for. I do know she’s repulsed by a few things—old money, monogamy, and coffee (odd, considering she’s Italian). She arrived at the humble 20,000-square foot country house on Taconic Road by helicopter with a group of people who seemed wealthy enough to buy seats on that one space shuttle that’d be out of town right before the meteor hit. As always, she came with a plan. By ten o’clock, she’d replaced the high heels with a pair of sneakers and was taking Edmond Thomas Wellington (the 3rd, I believe) to school on the grass courts. This was the Greenwich, Connecticut, version of Billy Jean King and Bobby Riggs. The dress looked equally at home holding a Gibson or a tennis racket. I had the sneaking suspicion that Sylvia had read Wellington’s comments in the paper regarding male and female athletes. After her resounding victory, I pointed out her chic and sporty “tennis” dress. Fitted but with a little stretch for movement. Sleeveless with