Oy. Vey. In today's New York Post: Sassy-scholar Marisa Meltzer's article covering the "New Wave Of Great Gatsbys" is a pu-pu (poo-poo?) platter of some of New York's most annoying Webtardolite 2.0 Fameball personae. She awarded titles to them. Our turn! Where to begin?
How 'bout Guest of a Guest blogger Rachelle Hruska, who wins a title of "THE QUEEN BEE" from Meltzer. Meltzer got this one correct, but anyone could've: Hruska has the social-scene-y blogging game on an insidiously smart lockdown. Remember Park Avenue Peerage, Socialite Rank, etc? Nobody does, because the Omaha-born former hedge funder blew them out of the water with a special Kool-Aid-esque formula that everyone in everyone's managed to take a sip of: cover the highbrow, the exclusive, the velvet rope-y shit. Mix it with coverage of "Normals" (i.e. New York Media/Tech neophytes who have more inherent accessibility than the Other Half, who want to be capital-c, Cool, too). Perfect example: the GoaG Hamptons Launch party this very website reported on last week. Sure, there were other people there besides the usual New York Media suspects, but who cares? The ones that mattered were the ones that will most likely disseminate her message to others: bloggers. We award Hruska the Distinguishment of Subversive Evil Genius. Rachelle's the exception to the group, because she actually makes money doing what she does, supposedly. Also, she's exhibited intelligence, and doesn't make herself the star of the show.
Speaking of which, now we get to the good stuff: Mary Rambin, Julia Allison's NonSociety ex-pat (ex-pet?) whom Meltzer awarded The Soloist. Chortle-worthy comparisons to a black, homeless, schizophrenic cello genius aside, Meltzer used the term "unsettling" to describe some of the things readers ("fans") of Rambin's blog have discovered about her, including when she "shamed readers who won free products and then failed to send her thank-you notes." Hysterical, and kudos to Meltzer for doing her research. My only contention with this is that Rambin's presence on the web is marginal at best, and it's going to get exponentially smaller when she moves back to L.A. (where, like the rest of the country, nobody gives a shit about media people) which she's apparently doing. Rambin gets The Ringo Starr Silver Ribbon, as in: no matter how many Beatles you outlive, you're always going to be Ringo*.
I have no idea what an Ashley Simko is, but apparently she stepped on Kanye West's shoes, once, according to Meltzer. Also, she's friends with the Guest of a Guest crew and - oh, wait. She works in graphic design. That's why we have no idea who she is. Here's her blog, I don't get it. As far as being a fameball goes, Meltzer's wrong, Simko doesn't make the cut. Congratulations, Simko! You made it out alive. You're awarded The Free Pass Out Of New York's Social Alcatraz. Go forth: design beautiful things, live quietly!
Meltzer also named Paper writer Paul Johnson-Calderon to the list, but didn't name the only reason anyone's ever heard of him besides being an assistant to Lauren Davis at Vogue, once: he was the subject of one of my favorite Page Six items ever run, after he stole some hostess' purse from LES $23/drink nightclub The Eldridge. Petty larceny? So 90s! And hip! That same item had some ex-boyfriend of someone and socialgay Kristian Laliberte both saying he'd jacked shit from them, too (a BlackBerry and a watch), so either Meltzer's friends with the guy, or just got so sick of writing about these people, she just phoned that one in. Johnson-Calderon is hereby awarded The Honorable Position of Class Treasurer..
Moving along, we have my favorite: the delectable, oft-bespectacled, bow-tied little creature known as Adrien Field. All of 20 years-old, nobody has any idea what earth he doth sprang from (supposedly, "South Jersey," which: so funny), nor do we know how powerful he is, but I think Field is just a viral marketing campaign for Terminator Salvation, wherein Sam Worthington's character wakes up in mud screaming and he's this incredible warrior that may or may not be a motherfuckin' Terminator. Woah.
Meltzer labeled him "The Youngster" and noted that's he's a correspondent for TMI Weekly, so he's basically a crony of Julia Allison and Mary Rambin. Implications of that aside, Meltzer notes that Field has a "men's style" blog that looks like the result of Agador from The Birdcage learning how to use the internet. Seriously (example here). Field can actually write, and he's astoundingly good at getting himself in front of cameras. If he can figure out a way to either (A) monetize himself or (B) keep himself out of the fameball spotlight while building a product, he might be able to survive, unlike the other Gungans, who will just become extinct when the Empire takes over the universe. Just kidding. We're all gonna die out, eventually, especially when people start reading books again. Field gets The Chris Crocker Memorial Award for his distinct style, emotional connection with his audience, and the bright future that Crocker never made it to.
Last, we have Jessica Schroeder, a born-and-bred Tumblr celebrity. Meltzer called her "The Hippie Hipster," but we all know any serious hippie does acid (right?), and Schroeder's your perfectly clean-cut, New York neophyte: a Midwestern import, who moved here to work in fashion and build herself as a brand. I hate this city. She takes pictures of her outfits, blogs about them, and subsequently got a few clips in fashion magazines. Her sartorial style appears to have quality, but her personal blog has seen her prone to personal misgivings about other girls on the internet, and is also shows her as an ardent and aggressive defender of thin women. She rose to fame on Tumblr, and has since been seen out on the town (on occasion) with Tumblr founder/boy wonder David Karp. Jessica wins "Best Dressed" because we're all out of other awards and her plan is so diabolically perfect, it's probably going to work, and Jessica Schroeder the Brand will kill at Target.
America, on behalf of the rest of New York and the last 7,000 characters, I apologize. Our final award of the evening goes to Marisa Meltzer, author of the piece, who you may remember from her linguistic beatdown at last week's N+1 90's panel. We appreciate that Meltzer is trying to document and create culture rather than wax poetic about it in a white room in The New Museum, but really: Marissa. You write for Slate and the Times. Unless this thing bought you nine dinners at Per Se, what the hell?! Meltzer is hereby designated Nu-Fameball Class of 2009 Advisor, or something. It's only fair we thank you appropriately. May we never write about anybody here again.
*This reminds me of a famous quote in which John Lennon was asked if Ringo Starr was the best drummer in the world. Lennon replied that he wasn't even the best drummer in The Beatles.