A Ghibelline and the Green Fairy

Archival photograph by the author

As I’m wont to do after a hard day’s work, I enjoy a stiff drink to clear my mind. The other evening, while waiting for a friend at a new favorite watering hole, I ordered absinthe and noticed the Art Deco dispenser drawing glances from a group of young women nearby. As the water dripped over the sugar cube and the louche bloomed in the Pontarlier glass, one of them, captivated by the ritual, asked if she might take a picture.

Curious, she lingered and struck up a conversation. I bought her a glass and showed her how the clear spirit clouds into opalescent green. We spoke for a while. She was from Wisconsin and loved living in New York, despite its many problems. I, a native son, confessed I was less sanguine about what has become of my city.

With sudden earnestness, she asked if I was a Republican.

“Lord no,” I said. “I’m a Ghibelline.”

She stared at me, blank and uncomprehending. After a few strained seconds, I began to explain. Before I could finish, she turned on her heel and walked back to her friends.

I returned to my true companion of late—sweet Lady Absinthe, La Fée Verte—who, unlike most, remains faithful to the end.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 10th, traditional Carlist commemoration of the Mártires de la Tradición