Due to a firey Jitney accident on the Long Island Expressway last night, we were not able to watch The City last night. Thankfully we've pieced together the action thanks to some dispatches from our favorite freelance party reporter.
Last night there was another packed crowd at the Lily Pond, the hottest nightclub in all of East Hampton, and the dance floor was especially star studded, with the likes of Whitney Port, Roxy Carmichael Olin, and Sammie Somethingorother in town for the weekend staying at the Fackelmayer's luxe compound. Nearly identical brothers Freddie and Harry couldn't have been dressed more differently for the late night fun. Harry came wearing a T-shirt and shorts, looking like he just finished a shift at the Crab Shack down the street and was stopping by for a drink on his way home. The buff and bronzed Freddie, however, was wearing an open tuxedo shirt and jacket, looking like he had just been thrown out of the End Alopecia Now benefit that was happening earlier that evening at McGuffan's Farm.
While the gemini brothers couldn't have looked more different, they both had the same goal: to score with Whitney. Apparently Whitney insisted on bringing her friend Roxy C.O. along for the weekend, much to everyone's chagrin. We hear that Sammy tried to swerve her Audi when Roxy was sticking her head out the sunroof so that she would be hurled headlong into the gutter, never to bray or instigate ever again. Her plan did not work. Neither of the Fackelmayers, with their upper-class, East Coast cool, could stand the brash California girl, and she was left to do the Tiffani dance all by herself while wearing a pair of glowing green sunglasses.
Harry (who I met when dating his brother Freddie, full disclosure!) ambled over and told me that he was thinking of hitting on Sammy, but she just wasn't that cute, and was on the prowl for another girl. I said, "What about Whitney. She's really giving you the signals."
At that moment, she was on the dance floor grinding with Freddie, who was popping the cork off a bottle of champagne and making sure that his girl was having a good time. I told Harry, who was a little drunk, that was the chance to make his move. He went in to kiss her, but Whitney kept turning her head. "I love you," I overheard him say as I sat on a banquette nearby watching the action. Freddie could clearly see the scene play out, and he bent over and shouted something to Roxy C.O., but I couldn't hear over the thump of the music from DJ Skeezy, who once asked me if I would do a line of coke off his penis. It's not as difficult as you would think.
Freddie made his way back over to Whitney, and Harry slumped over with the look of defeat all over his face where his limp bangs usually hang. I sat next to him and patted his knee and told him everything would be fine. As he slipped his hand under my blouse (but over the bra), I thought of an even better plan. "Hey, why don't you tell Whitney that I'm Freddie's girlfriend and that she should break up with him. Then maybe she'll sleep with you."
Harry weaved his way through the crowd of glamorous hangers on, stepped over Sammy, who was making out on the floor with Ship Needermacker, heir to the Needermacker frozen waffle fortune, and sidled up to Whitney. I swished my martini around and mustered up my biggest scowl as Harry whispered in her ear and Whitney's face festered with even more confusion that usual. It was like someone just told her that her little puppy hadn't been sent to a farm in Connecticut to live with Martha Stewart, but really wound up under the wheels of Lizzie Grubman's SUV. She grabbed Roxy C.O. and told Sammie to stop being a slut on the sticky floor of a suburban club because it was time to storm off in a huff.
I went over to Harry to ask what happened, and he slumped onto my shoulders like a lonely corpse. I patted his head and thought he was going to cry. Then he vomited down my back, and it was time to leave.
The next morning, I had to find out the scoop and hid out in the shed next to the Fackelmayer pool. As the brothers did cannonballs, I could see the three witches plotting inside throwing little ingredients into a cauldron. Sammie would stir and Roxy would throw back her head and emit painful bleats that made the boys cower like Glenn Close taking a shower in The Big Chill. They came downstairs and coven leader Roxy gave Freddie a piece of her mind, but Whitney wanted to do the talking. She changed a spell of truth, and Freddie had no choice to admit his girlfriend and say he was sorry, but offerend no explanation.
Then I burst out of the shed, leaves still in my hair and chucks of dried puke flaking off my dress and shouted, "It's me! He's in love with me!" and the witches screamed, running with hands over head like a gaggle of crazed hula dancers. They ran right to the Audi and shuttled back from the city. It might have been a shaky night, but this party ended with the best of mornings.
There are many style blogs on the internet, but the bloggiest belongs to Betsey Morgenstern, the girl who has something to do with Stylehive.com.
Olivia Palermo: Hi Betsey. How are you?
Betsey Morgenstern: I'm fine, how are....
OP: That's great to hear. So, how would you describe your personal style?
BM: Well, I really like a mix of fashion-forward and more...
OP: That's awesome. I have something like that myself. Who are your favorite designers?
BM: Right now I'm really into Jason...
OP: I'm friends with Phillip Lim. And I lost my virginity in Zac Posen's hot tub on Fire Island. What trends are you seeing now?
BM: The thing that's going to be a hit for fall is...
OP: Great. That's all I need.
BM: What? You wouldn't even let me say...
OP: I'm leaving. Bye.