The paparazzi were in position as we turned left onto Robertson. Nowadays they were omnipresent, their hulking black SUVs with blacked-out windows lying in wait for their prey. The vehicles were so imposing you’d have thought they housed the celebrities. Instead, they lurked like giant shiny beetles waiting for some skankbait young fame-ho to walk by. There used to be a hot dog cart directly across from the valet stand at the Ivy, but some new swanky store had opened nearby and petitioned the Beverly Hills City Council to get the guy kicked out. The store owner claimed the long line at lunch prevented customers from accessing her store. I had a feeling maybe money had changed hands. No more hot dogs on Robertson.

We pulled up and gave the keys to the valet. A gaggle of Ladies Who Lunch waited for their leased luxury cars paid for by their Vaginamony. All you needed was one rich ex and you were set for life with a Mercedes and yoga retreats with your girlfriends.

Today was a perfect, sunny California Saturday afternoon. I’d used the good Greek sunscreen you had to buy on eBay from Canada because it wasn’t FDA approved. My hair looked good and I was wearing my new Sama sunglasses. These were featherlight and the lenses were lightly tinted. I planned this so I wouldn’t have to remove them during the entire lunch.

I saw my mother and her friend at a table directly to the left of the hostess stand, the worst place to sit ever. Not only did everyone who was waiting to be seated stand over you the entire meal and eye your food, but the purses on the tight and tanned shoulders occasionally would knock you good in the head. Shit, I wished we’d gotten here first.

Mom looked good, with lots of makeup, a persistent cloud of perfume, and a fuchsia print ensemble with no beginning, middle, or end. When my mom decided to become invisible to men, she’d given up worrying about calories.

I thought the Ivy was a good choice. Mom just wanted the story of a Beverly Hills brunch to tell her girlfriends at home about. If we had any chance of seeing a celebrity, it was here, but I hoped it would get better than Pam Dawber of Mork and Mindy fame, whom we passed on the way in.