Note to Self (149) Dream – The Hamptons
I woke up from a dream. A crazy, insane, unbelievable dream. I entered a parallel universe, a world made of my darkest fantasies. I traveled to another dimension. I landed on a foreign planet. No matter how I say this, no matter how I describe this… My weekend was an adventure.
My best friend offered to do something fun for the 4th of July. We hesitated between visiting a friend in Boston, her mother in Florida, another friend in L.A., or just the two of us would have flown to Mexico or Aruba. And then, she found something else we could do: go to the Hamptons.
I had never been to the Hamptons. All I knew about that part of Long Island came from movies and TV shows. Artists, athletes, socialites, and entrepreneurs lived there in their big summer houses, drove big sports cars, and sailed big boats. Women wore casual beach clothing that consisted of Gucci, Pucci, Massoni, Louis Vuitton, Yves Saint Laurent, and Dior… Men exhibited their Rolexes and drank twenty five year old scotch in Baccarat glasses. Wherever you went, you saw money and private parties. Everyone knew each other. Everyone owned a condo on the Upper East Side. Everyone belonged to a very exclusive part of society.
And I never thought I’d witness such eccentricity in real life.
Well, I was wrong.
Everything I saw in movies and TV shows is true.
The best part of the trip? Sunset beach in Shelter Island.
The place reminded me of St. Tropez, France. Same scenery, same crowd, same atmosphere. You bump into celebrities at every street corner. You pay twenty dollars for a cocktail. You look at everyone and everyone looks at you and tries to figure out how wealthy you are and where you come from. Cannes can be like that too during the Film Festival. I basically don’t need to fly over 6,000 miles to visit my family on the French Riviera.
There was this woman who stood by the bar at the Sunset Beach hotel and drank a Corona.
She looked thirty, but I knew she was older. She got work done. She wore Gucci sandals, white shorts and a Massoni blouse, Dior glasses and a Vuitton clutch. She walked to the bathroom and kept staring at her reflection while she finished her drink. She looked like nothing could reach her. She looked like she floated in a bubble, sheltered from the rest of the world. I watched her from afar and she entertained me. I noticed her fake tan and her hair extensions. She represented everything you see in a magazine. She was fashionable, blonde and good looking, and she had money.
My friend and I stayed in a share house not very far from Sag Harbor. I loved that little town. Seafood tasted delicious. And of course, when we watched the final of the Eurocup in a very cute bar, I gave a hard time to all the Italy supporters (I was outnumbered, but no harm was done… )
For five days straight, I laughed. I people watched and I made up stories. I ran into work colleagues and I met insane characters. The Hamptons couldn’t have been better than Miami or Los Angeles.
I lived in the fast lane. I enjoyed myself, I partied hard and I barely took a break. I also walked into a glass door, and I got hit by a frisbee in the collarbone. I didn’t hurt myself. There’s something about being on vacation: I’m too relaxed to worry about physical pain.
Over all, the trip was worth it, and I made priceless memories. Not sure though whether I’d do it again… because Vegas awaits me this winter so I can celebrate my 30th birthday.
What am I going to do next?