One time, after getting sozzled at a Richard Prebble birthday barbecue bash, I tried to beg and plead my way into an invite-only Deborah Coddington bash being held at Sky City. All supplications failed, and I ended up going across to the Mexican Cafe where I was asked to strip for a Hen's Party and got free tequila all night. In retrospect, this was definitely a better move.
This was in the days when Act was still a force to be reckoned with. Debs was the rising star of Act, possibly the next leader. Smart, articulate, formerly married to Alistair Taylor, the publisher of the definitive guide to NZ sex and social behaviour Down Under the Plum Trees. Deborah Coddington was the saviour of Act, a truth-seeking social and economic liberal. Alas, it all went to pieces. This partly explains the blog vitriol aimed at her NZ Herald columns. Like Lucifer getting kicked out of heaven, it's a long way to fall.
Her latest column has been predictably savaged. I have a little to add, in regards to Debs' restaurant analogy. The only reason the Chateau Tongariro survived after its sale was by the very deep pockets of Madame Lo, who owns it, and diversifying into backpackers accommodation. It sometimes plays host to the stupidly rich, such as a brewery dude who hired the place one weekend for his son's wedding, kitting it out with his own staff and furniture. This luxurious white elephant has not an iota in common with the Telecom thing. Deborah confuses monopoly with uniqueness. They are not the same values.
(Originally posted 15/5/06)