You'd think she is sweet and cute, innocent as a young virgin in the remote countryside - of course she is all that too - but boy-oh-boy - Andrea Cassar has got a wild streak not many of us know about!
Of course, I know nothing about this as I sit waiting for her to arrive at La Rive café and wine bar at the Strand, Sliema. I get there ahead of the planned time and breeze in, zooming in for a table before anybody else lays his filthy paws on it. I sit there like a lonesome soul waiting behind purgatory's door for about 15 minutes before any of the waiting staff realize I even exist. I could have died and gone to Heaven (or hell) and nobody would have had a clue - A grim point of departure.
Sixteen minutes later, a young girl with big eyes and the bone structure of a ballerina, notices me and brings over a menu. Do I want to order? "No, not yet... I am waiting for somebody," I reply.
Twenty-three minutes later, I see a lovely girl strutting towards me, with a radiant smile that guarantees to pull any red-blooded male like a magnet. She is one of a pack of pretty things that ooze natural charisma and leave a trail of lingering elegance wherever they go.
She is modern, confident, a truly international person who doesn't have to shout about it. Andrea... just is!
We exchange lukewarm greetings and suddenly the air is filled with microscopic bubbles of colour. "Sorry, I'm a little bit late," she says sweetly, flicking the silky black hair backwards and sliding into her seat.
Around us the place is buzzing like crazy and the waiting staff move around as if they are human bullets who have just been shot from a 44 Remington Magnum. One looks like Superman with blond hair, and another has an asymmetric hair-do making him look like some glam-rock singer. There are only two empty tables, and in no time they are also taken; The first is now occupied by an Amy Winehouse looking girl and her nerd-like boyfriend, and the other by a lovely Sliema couple and some wannabe San Pawl tat-Tarġa friends.
Judging by how busy the place is, this must be the hottest hang-out in Sliema. The interior design does not excite me much. They have some great seating space outside where you can sit and enjoy the view while indulging in some serious people-watching. Inside, there is a touch of incongruity with colours - though they make good use of Purple, which happens to be my favourite colour. The chairs are black with some steel to match the tables, while the walls play on whites, an orange, and a vibrant purple. These colours also transfer themselves to the food menu.
"I feel like Spaghetti," Andrea says confidently. "How about you?"
I'm still looking at the menu. It is not too grand but very okay; six pasta dishes, six salads, some tortilla/wraps, four mains, and four platters. However, there are some specials which the waitress presents us with. I settle for a Chicken Ceasar salad.
We both agree on a Rose D'Anjou from Loire (France) priced at €12.50, and wait for the waitress to take leave so we can continue our chit chat.
Andrea has been married for about a year to Warren, so that triggers off my first question. "Your house is on fire, and you can either save Bugz (her dog), or Warren. Who would you save?"
She is amazingly quick with her answer. "The dog!" And a split second later explains disarmingly: "Because my husband runs out automatically when I shout!"
"Are you more loyal or more honest?" I shoot back.
"Loyal," she responds, flashing that pedigree celebrity smile.
We chat on for a while, and it is at this very point in time that I learn about Andrea's wild streak. She is not your standard Miss Prim & Proper as one might perceive her. This girl has a strong sense of adventure and has done anything from sky-diving to some other unheard of sport which spells DANGER in capital letters. She enjoyed a honeymoon in the United States riding a Harley Davidson with her equally adventurous husband. Besides presenting and producing her own show - Liquorish - she is also the CEO at Cassar Shipyards and navigates through a male-dominated circle with the ease of Michelle Obama slipping into a Valentino gown for a Hello photo shoot. She tells me she is always in a suit at work, and is very happy with her team.
Superman and the Ballerina bring our food in record time. This time everything moves very fast. Another waiter with fuzzy hair and a vague impression he is caught somewhere between earth and sky, pours our wine. He cracks a joke too, and we smile politely though we don't really get it.
The food looks good. Andrea's Spaghetti Melanzane (€7.50), is served on a big plate and she claims it is delicious. My chicken salad (€7) is larger than expected, and tastes nice. For some reason I expected it to be dry, but it's not, so I'm happy about that.
We eat and talk, and regale each other with stories and a dash of gossip. The characters at La Rive are very appetising too: Amy Winehouse is sipping a Smoothie while her boyfriend is probably calculating the calorie intake of their whole meal, and a tall guy with a pony-tail and an alligator belt is busy inventing all kinds of excuses to stand up and show himself around. The place has become almost as noisy as a rock concert, and at some point makes conversation increasingly difficult. Having said this, the background voices of people chatting and enjoying themselves gives you a good feeling.
Conversation then flips over to the local TV awards and I ask Andrea to tell me who was the worst dressed woman there. Oh! I can't wait for this piece of information. I have heard some rumours...
"Honestly, I can't remember," she says. "I was too occupied with Warren showing up in jeans. He was probably the worst dressed." Aaaaaagh! There I go. How disappointing. I thought she would mention somebody else!
Authors note: Andrea is wearing an amazingly outlandish outfit tonight: It looks like a skin tight cat-suit which gives the illusion it has been painted onto her feline body by some avant-garde artist. There are asymmetric designs in strategic places, and the funky necklace she wears can only be rivalled by that worn by Graziella De Cesare some time ago. Oh! And did I mention the tasteful cherry coloured shoes? I'm holding back to ask if they are Manolo Blahnik.
When we finish our food, the Ballerina shows up with a smile on her face, and politely asks if she can remove our plates. After she is gone, I move closer to Andrea and ask her my hot question for the evening. "If you had been a porn star..." I stop for a few seconds just to let it sink in. "...What would the artist name you choose for yourself be?"
She buries her face in the palm of her hand and giggles. "I wouldn't know!"
"Come on..."
She finally settles for "Betty!"
I demand a surname to go with it, but she can't come up with any. I suggest Betty Liquorish.
11 p.m. We decide to call it a day, as we both have other commitments we have to race to after. I wave at Superman and indicate we would like to pay and leave. He flies over with the bill a couple of minutes later. It's €28.20 in total for the two mains, the Rose D'Anjou and a small bottle of water. Really not bad for what we got. Next time I am back, I would like to try and grab a place outside though.
Amy Winehouse has now finished her Smoothie, and boyfriend is counting the pennies as we take our leave. Mr Alligator belt is back in business, working his way to another round of exhibitionism. Au revoir La Rive! Au revoir Andrea!
privateye@timesofmalta.com