At Elles 21st birthday party with Busy and The Bergdorf Blonde. We cut the line around the block, kiss E. Jean Carroll, and then realize we really need her advice: this party is crawling with the past.
By the elevator, Scotchy talking “business” with Suzanne Kapner.
By the roulette wheel, Busy’s ex, looking like he raided Fred Segal on sale.
And then by Lindsay Lohan, my college soulmate, the one I’ve never kissed.
Normally Lindsay would be undeniable, even inevitable, but not this time. We push past her, wondering what to do next.
This boy and I haven’t talked in two years, and in two minutes it’s pretty clear why. We’re different, and busy, and very confused. What is he doing here? Why haven’t we talked? Will we be close again now that we’re in the same city? Can I deal with being close to anyone right now? Are we causing a scene in the middle of Bloomingdales?
“Hey,” he laughs, “we’re causing a scene in the middle of Bloomingdales.”
It’s true; Nina Garcia is staring.
We regroup; he goes to find Kanye and I check on Bergdorf as she checks her voicemail, which is empty. “Doesn’t he understand?” she asks her phone, like it’s a dog you bitch to about boys, “I mean, I was waiting for him to call!”
Diamonds are Forever blares live on the speakers and Rebecca Romijn pops out of nowhere and Damon Dash is sneaking up through the service elevator and Lindsay leaves a comet trail of sparkleness as she walks through the crowd. But Bergdorf’s cursing her cell and Busy is showing her hot newness to the boy she doesn’t want anymore. I’m sneaking stares at Scotchy and slouching on this boy.
Two hours later I get a million texts asking who was at the party, and I erase them all, lick the icing off a cupcake, then throw the whole thing out a third floor window.
[JESSIE DELLA FEMINA - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]