Tatiana Santo Domingo and Andrea Casiraghi

On Friday’s opening-night fondue party high up at the Eggli mountain, the dress code was 1960s Pink Panther, as The Return of the Pink Panther was shot in Gstaad. I wore lederhosen and an Austrian jacket, more Garmisch-Partenkirchen circa 1936, and was in the company of Geoffrey and Loulou Moore, who complied with the dress code up until we went drinking heavily in the cabin that was stuffed with booze. In no time I had spotted a heartbreaker famous princess and had sent her a quick little love poem. Discretion not being my strong point, soon half of the gallant 600 who had made it up were giving their opinions about whether the poem was working or not. It worked, partly. She and I sat down together and chatted about poetry, but that’s not what I told indiscreet people who asked. I said it was about sex, which it wasn’t until I got too drunk and broached the subject. Anyway, I ended up in my own bed with a headache as my lover.

Saturday evening after the afternoon wedding, the Tennishalle of Gstaad had been transformed into an ice lake with hundreds of trees covered in snow, but from there one descended into a Brazilian forest—Vera Santo Domingo is Brazilian-born—where a hot samba band drove us sex maniacs wild. I danced and danced with Loulou Moore and kept putting the moves to a Belgian lady whose billionaire hubby had just dumped for a newer model in between dances, and that’s when I seem to have cut my hand and covered my white dinner shirt in blood. It looked dramatic, but it was a tiny scratch. I told people I knocked out her burly billionaire hubby. Then, around 4AM, I spotted the famous royal of the night before. I told her that I got cut trying to get into her room in a fight with her bodyguards. (They were both priests.) One of my houseguests, Charles O’Donnell, managed to haul me home at six.

There is a slight sadness that creeps in after three days of nonstop partying. That’s to be expected, but what is not is that I don’t think I’ll ever see another one like this in my lifetime. I said this to my hostess and she knocked on wood. She can keep on knocking. I know a twilight party when I see one, at least where I’m concerned.