No Man's Land
The city that sleeps, Camelot, and The Grey Lady.
I’m glad that I came to New York in July so that I can plan on never doing it again. I nearly fainted in a Williamsburg cafe bathroom with a moist toilet seat from the humidity because Con Ed wants us all dead. The residue that was left on my ass speaks for itself. I have turned into a massive bitch, at least I know I can be one. I can't wait to leave.
I’m eating wet arugula, close to gagging at this communal table across from the guy taking selfies and low exposure photos of this mediocre cafe. I start getting anxious thinking about gagging while shoving lettuce into my mouth. I have no appetite. An EDM remix of a Channel Orange era Frank Ocean song is playing, which furthers my nausea and desire to pass away. Someone who must be crazy walked in and ordered a hot soup. I hesitate to ask her what her problem is. Sorry that I'm complaining so much, but not really. It’s fun and you do it too. If you don’t you are boring and have no sense of humor. Some people don’t understand my humor. Last weekend I asked my friends new fling (they have since ended things), where do you summer? because it’s a hilarious thing to ask a person you just met. I love to cosplay as an obnoxious Wasp. Unfortunately, no one got the joke and thought I was being earnest. My friend group will soon plan an intervention if I don't stop talking about their dating lives in my very public, not pay-walled whatsoever newsletter.
I asked myself how I would survive eating hot wings later that evening at Fanelli’s. My eating disorder still loves me so I had a salad at lunch because wings later means salad now. My friend once told me she's inspired by me because I order whole milk lattes and don't hesitate to have a pastry, too. I definitely do have some shame about it, but I'm trying to not actively kill myself anymore.
Later that night, I saw a ghost while walking on Prince Street by Lafayette. It’s true that when you run into an ex, or even see them from afar that you’ll want to throw yourself into a moving cab (by the way- where are all the yellow cabs?). Especially by one who nearly overdosed on your apartment floor in the fall of 2019. My friend Coco refers to her ex flings as her “haunts” which is how I’ll be referring to mine from now on.
Isn’t there an old saying that New York is the city that never sleeps? It’s mentioned in multiple songs. I can tell you that New York City is surely sleeping, now more than ever. Things are closed on Monday and Tuesday. Stores are opening their doors at … 1 pm (??), shutting them at 7 or even 6 PM. This feels nothing like the New York City that I once knew. Restaurants and even diners are taking summer breaks for weeks at a time. There’s nothing sexy about New York without late nights and early mornings. Some coffee shops aren’t opening until 9 AM. Right now New York couldn’t be more like Los Angeles.
I wore Armani and Ralph Lauren to the ballet on Friday night, making sure to powder my nose with Chanel instead of my usual Pat McGrath because I was headed uptown.
I’m predicting a massive migration uptown by the downtown sect in the coming years. If not to live, then to dine and galavant.
I’m now writing to you from Nantucket and the Islands where the local front page news is that of the 25th anniversary of the plane crash that killed JFK Jr., Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, and her sister Lauren Bessette on the evening of July 16, 1999.
Kennedy had just become a licensed pilot less than a year prior. Over Memorial Day weekend in 1999, he’d crashed a paraglider, resulting in multiple torn ligaments in his ankle. Days later back in New York, he had to have surgery and a metal plate placed in his leg. He’d had his cast taken off the day before the flight and was waddling around on crutches in his office before the flight later that July 16th evening.
The Kennedys were (and still are) known as the American royal family. That legacy is still very much alive, with Jack Schlossberg’s appointment at Vogue where he’ll be paid $250 per article. I don’t need to tell you about Carolyn, as she is the ghost influencer of this generation. She is said to have had only had about 30-40 pieces in her wardrobe. The former Calvin Klein publicist lived simply. She didn’t need much more than a pencil skirt, a crisp white button down, and Prada boots, especially when her main accessory (besides her very worn Birkin) was the man on her arm.
In March 1999, the couple started marriage counseling. Allegedly earlier that year Carolyn had been sleeping with Michael Bergin, a Calvin Klein model at the time. However, days before the accident on July 12, Carolyn was said to have moved out of their bedroom into a spare room in their loft. At a lunch at the Stanhope Hotel (where John was currently staying after CBK fled the coup) on Fifth Avenue days before the flight, Lauren Bassette convinced her sister to attend the wedding of JFK Jr’s cousin Rory Kennedy, which she was planning on skipping out on due to the troubles in their marriage. She knew that her absence would be noted upon, and agreed to attend as long as Lauren tagged along with her on the plane.
Upon preflight preperations, Kennedy had reportedly been limping badly. A pilot warned him before the flight that there was a danger in flying through the darkness and the haze; The Island’s infamous fog. (Nantucket is often reffered to as “The Grey Lady” for this reason.) The demise of the aircraft came when Kennedy became drowsy due to the haze, losing sight of the horizon, and therefore plummetted the aircraft into the ocean just 7.5 miles off shore of the Vineyard. Divers found their bodies five days later on July 21. The news reported this day as the day “Camelot lost its prince”.
I’ve spent my summers in Nantucket since I was very small. Nantucket is what everyone who goes to the Hamptons wishes they had. Since I am sober and a child of strict Catholic parents, I didn’t go out as a teen and I’m not that interested in being around a bunch of drunk people anyway. If you do it right, and not like Hallie Bachelder, Nantucket is the most peaceful place on earth. Ignoring the lore of ghosts, Kevin Spacey at the Club Car, and the massive population of great white sharks that reside mostly northeast of the island off Great Point. My family rented a house for many years on Hulbert Avenue, steps from Brant Point Light House, and just across the street from John Kerry’s summer home. My cousins and I would set up our lemonade stand, which was frequented by Kerry’s secret service. They would give us a hefty tip of $20, a jackpot for us. We’d spend it all at the candy store in the back of Force Five.
The best part about the island is that I don’t know a single person here, and that it feels like it belongs to me.
Yesterday I got four text messages within the hour that the MNZ x J Crew collaboration dropped, a highly anticipated release for downtown darlings. The campaign was shot by one of my favorites, Gillian Garcia, and styled by none other than Thistle Brown. I overnighted the sheer top (a classic MNZ style), and the polka dot dress which you’ll likely see me wearing next week in London.
Speaking of London, you won’t hear from me until I’m back in Los Angeles in August. I can’t wait to tell you about it. Again, if you have any recommendations for me, please reply to this email. Also!! If I miss any important gossip in New York or California I assume you will contact me immediatley.
I’ll miss you so much.
instantly subscribed after gutturally laughing at the first section whilst in public
laughed out loud at the beginning