Overaccessorized old ladies count: 12 Prada count: 5
The Zodiac Room in Neiman Marcus downtown is an old white lady's wet dream. Here, you can brag about your Louis Vuitton luggage and talk shit about that chick who always shows up late to church ("And then, gasp, she has the nerve to sing the wrong lyrics to the 'Our Father' remix? Double gasp!"), all while hurking down a $20 grilled steak salad.
The Zodiac Room is where fancy Dallas meets to be fancy. Fancy Mom is there wearing that white shirt with the popped collar and that ugly-as-fuck giant necklace she always wears to hide her turkey wattle neck, Murphy Brown-style. Fancy Trophy Wife is there with that surprised look on her face, either because it's Botox-ed that way or because she's proud that she figured out how to completely fuck over her husband. Or maybe it's both. Trophy Wife's not-as-hot-as-her friends show up, they all greet each other with that siren hello and then they bounce fake boobs and tap each other's shoulders like Barbies (they would hug like normal people, but their arms can't reach past DD plus DD).
The menu is my nightmare. There are calorie counts on every item (except on the booze, because they're not that stupid), there's a section of the menu that's called "Skinny" and, you guys, the only hot dog on the menu is in the kids' section.
My menu options are lobster bisque, crème brûlée or a box of cookies. I'll have the $6 lobster bisque. Because I like saying "bisque."
While the chef was in the kitchen bisque-ing my lobster, my server brought me a tiny shot glass of chicken broth (etiquette says you smack this on the table, yell "CHICKEN SHOT!!!" shoot it, then throw the shot glass over your left shoulder and if it bounces off a fake boob, you get a Yahtzee) and a big-as-my-face popover to the table, with strawberry butter (the popover was light and delicious, and the strawberry butter tasted just like rich people).
As for the lobster bisque, it was better than imaginary sex with all the different Arnold Schwarzeneggers of history (Kindergarten Cop Arnold, Terminator Arnold, Terminator 2 Arnold and, obviously, Junior Arnold).
Episode one of Me at The Zodiac Room was the best reality show I've seen in a while. I may have crop-dusted the entire dining room on my way out. But it was a fancy lobster bisque crop-dusting, so it was smooth, light, a little chive-y and totally ladylike.
Keep the Dallas Observer Free... Since we started the Dallas Observer, it has been defined as the free, independent voice of Dallas, and we would like to keep it that way. Offering our readers free access to incisive coverage of local news, food and culture. Producing stories on everything from political scandals to the hottest new bands, with gutsy reporting, stylish writing, and staffers who've won everything from the Society of Professional Journalists' Sigma Delta Chi feature-writing award to the Casey Medal for Meritorious Journalism. But with local journalism's existence under siege and advertising revenue setbacks having a larger impact, it is important now more than ever for us to rally support behind funding our local journalism. You can help by participating in our "I Support" membership program, allowing us to keep covering Dallas with no paywalls.