September 05, 2007
Kiss & Tell
What I Did On My Summer Vacation
The thing that sort of sucked about my summer vacation was that it was totally summer but not so much vacation. I hate to say it but my tennis and my golf game got like zero attention, and I can count on one hand the number of martinis I had so my guess is that the Connecticut club is definitely putting me on the inactive list. Thanks to my friend Amanda's mother though, I did score a fine Lily Pulitzer skirt which inches me back into the WASPs' good graces. And I never swore in public although I did pee in public so maybe those two things sort of cancel each other out. One of the skill sets I missed in camp was learning how to "go" in the water so I had to rely on the old squat in the tall grasses (don't even mention the words poison ivy) which I thought was totally on the sly but friends at the Barcelona boat party told me the event was kind of more like breaking news on CNN.
As a super local not to mention full-time member of the fourth estate I was well versed in the scene which is like sleeping with a male model – great fun for a momentary ego boost but ultimately intellectually lame. Being on the inside of the velvet rope is great fun until you're on the outside of it. As my friend Miles once told me, "It's not a meritocracy." Clearly a lot of these self proclaimed "it" girls skipped the Swiss finishing school and studied "Art of War" instead. Manners and gentility are like the blue-footed booby birds or Members Only jackets of the Hamptons – totally extinct. Although I have to say at one event a random guy did notice me getting squeezed out of the free drinks line and offered to get me a white wine when he reached the bar first. But apparently it wasn't so much chivalry but the cleavage that got his attention as he handed back the drink and said "Great dress." The youth and sheer "fashion do" quotient of the female predators blew me away, although clearly none of them got the text message of "no stilettos, ahem . . . wedges." Those of that group poked more holes in Hamptons fields than ground crews at the Atlantic Golf Club.
Like the rest of America I got my own TV show so I finally felt part of the, "Oh yeah that was me on TV," crowd. But at the very same time I also had to say, "Whoa, I am so not a morning person." I adored my great co-host who was younger and taller who would take pity on me and my pre-latte mascara adventures and fix me up before I went on air. Life in the freelance world means you are getting around and once one deadline is filed another one is banging down the door. Although there was very little leisure time I did find time to make strawberry jam and the Ladies Village Improvement Society East End Tomato Tart (twice.)
I saw Nancy Atlas on the green in Montauk who was not only a lyrical goddess but also dealt with a guy on drugs (well at least the happy kind of drugs) tripping out and dancing in her personal space. I got my picture taken with Danny Deutsch. I did Pilates on the beach. I lost sleep over my adjustable ARM mortgage (so is that like an arm that grows long and starts scraping the knuckles on the ground or one that gets real short and is only good for flossing or flag waving?) I had a good cry over the one-year anniversary of the death of my dog and the two-year anniversary of the death of my Dad (why does everyone die in summertime when it's so nice out?!). But after communing with a lovely woman from California who channels an 18th century Scottish physician named Dr. Peebles, I felt very much in touch with both of them.
I dreamt about seducing a priest.
I lied about my age for the first time.
And I learned to recycle.
Hmmm – wonder what fall will bring?
You can find more of Heather's writings on HamptonsHeather.com or send me a note at firstname.lastname@example.org.