Plaid Skirt Invasion

28 March 2009

Once upon a time, on the Upper East Side, a genius writer pitched a television series that would soon become the glory and demise of New York City. Empowering high school prepsters and tracking UES trends was destined to spiral out of control.

Last night, I sat bored and snobby in the musicless lobby at the Bowery Hotel listening to my hyper friend explain away her decision to wear a bathrobe out. The after shower satin cover was apparently a nod to the D&G Spring 2009 collection, but a bathrobe nonetheless. In walked a certain Spence senior we both know and love, and she paused at our pathetic party. I sipped my wine as slowly as possible and rolled my eyes as she chided Hugh Hefner’s apparel selection. She pranced away to join her friends. Bored, as I said, I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

Serena-esque blonde: “What schools have you gotten into so far?”

Trendy gay kid: “GW.”

Serena: “That’s so great! Congratulations. Are you waiting to hear from others as well?”

Trendy gay kid, who is starting to look kind of hot: “Yeah. UVA, Columbia, Kenyon. I’m checking my Blackberry like every two seconds.”

Um, breaks please. It is Friday night, and I am out trying to pretend I’m not trying to have too many cocktails and set to flirt with some men to at least suppress the withdrawal I’ve been feeling ever since my flavor-of-the-month left on business. A few things are really not okay here: 1) Srsly? I’m surrounded by college acceptance convos? 2) I’m so not in the mood for this kind of competition tonight! and 3) I REALLY do not need this kind of competition!

With Park Winter’s school girl spectacle, I mean special, last week and giddy college convos south of Houston this week, I can’t deal. A girl is supposed to return from her European vacation relaxed and peaceful not terrified by the amount of high school girls dressed in grown up clothes…and vice versa! running amok of Gotham. Unfortunately, bitter envy isn’t going to help this time. I can scowl myself premature wrinkles, but you bet your Original Car Shoe loafers that the former are smiling because they are wrinkle free and have cute butts and the latter are happy nibbling away at allegedly delicious free eats at Park Winter. I could give up. Or I could man up and resurrect my high school uniform. Come to think of it, I may even have a too short plaid kilt around here somewhere…

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Posted by Emma Dinzebach at 11:07 AM

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