Only the poor are crazy, darlings. The rest of us are just eccentric. If you must make sport of the costume party I attended at the nuthouse, make fun of the hors d'oeurves, which were unspeakable; and my ex-friend Fi, who drank a Methuselah of Cristal and let Prince Harry's PR secretary do unmentionable things to her on top of the banquette.
I wore this as a costume, which allowed for all sorts of interesting access.
Look, some might find the whole thing in poor taste; but like I said, only the proletariat can be truly crazy. We are above such things. For example: Mum. Someone should have locked that old Bertha in an attic long ago, but as she's wealthy we simply smile and dump Valium into her Scotch.