The Obligatory 'I'm No Snob' Snobby Hamptons Wrap-Up

Every so many weeks we get these blog posts or (gulp) New York Times Magazine pieces that attempt to wrap up the whole spirit of the Hamptons in summer. It's the usual formula, whereby a given writer somehow gets the daunting and unwanted task of "weekending" in the Hamptons like some embedded reporter in Afghanistan and has to inform us of the goings on.

It usually works (in subtext alert tonality) like this:

I'm a young, hip, good-looking, appletini drinking, social climber who was unfairly tapped by my editor, (or in the case of bloggers: I could hear the masses calling out to me) to cover the Hamptons scene after another wild summer winds down. Sigh. I so hate covering the rich. I'm so not rich, or in any way interested in the rich. I'm just a regular gal who happens to be wearing designer clothes that I dug up somewhere. I'm really just like you, and I loathe to be in the company of rich people, but since I have to cover this story, I might as well embed myself in the culture of the privileged. Now that we got that out of the way, let me count off the myriad boutiques I'm completely familiar with, and then complain how I was not treated like a wealthy person enough!

Next batter, How Very Lucky To Be A Girl, another chick blogger who goes on dates and uses words like "fabulous" while wanting us to believe she's one of us. In her treatise on how she's not a fan of the Hamptons, she proceeds to ring off every store that opened on Main Street in East Hampton, and drops more than one high-end, famous restaurant she dined at. Why? So she could tell you how lousy the service was. (Click on the hyperlink to read her entry)

That's right. How Very Lucky To Be A Girl, the down-to-earth, working class hero blogger, who hates what the wealthy have done to the quaint, sleepy towns of the east end adds her two cents to the growing pile of complaints from rich people about the poor quality of work they get out of their poors.

For some of you who may remember J-school. Here's the organizational checklist for these recurring pieces.

Insert self-conscious opening lines about the unapologetic display of Hamptons wealth?...Check

Justify your reason for being there by citing editorial assignment?...Check

Transition to the "if-you-can't-beat-em'-join-em'" tone?...Check

Depart from your original position to suddenly embrace the Hamptons and lament the trials and tribulations the wealthy must endure?...Check

Mention you'll be back next year?... Absolutely

Eat a bag-a-dicks?...Please do

Kelly Bensimon Sells Clothes For A Cause. Still Manages To Sound Like An Idiot

We know. Ripping apart this broad is low-lying fruit, and we usually try to be fair when someone repugnant does something to benefit humanity. In this case, we can't.

Real Housewives of New York City star Kelly Bensimon was out on someone's front lawn in Amagansett this past week. Eating their grass and sputtering out nouns? No. She was selling her soul, (see also: her clothes) for charity. If you happened to make it to her big fur yard sale, you too can dress like so last year.

The proceeds of cleaning out her closet to make room for this coming year's unnecessarily absorbidant shopping spree went to benefit Island Harvest, a non-profit organization that helps feed hungry Long Islanders.

Wonderful. Insightful. Caring. Philanthropic. Kelly...how does this act of generosity fit, philosphically speaking, into your world-view?

Added Bensimon: "I can't even do a yard sale without my hair being done."

Sigh. Something tells me she can quote Plato's Republic and make it sound stupid.