Imaginary Socialite

the truly cool have sweet smiles…

Mickey Boardman ushers me over to blinking eyes under fringed bangs. I’m new; I’m terrified.

“Um, hi,” I smile, cheerleader style, and immediately know - this is not the cheerleader crowd.

But Greg grins back and shakes my hand.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he stares, and I shrug. “You have,” I nod, “but with way less makeup.”

He laughs and I feel special. And that, I guess, is part of the beginning; at least, it was for me.

[HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREG KRELENSTEIN - YOU'RE STARRY]

Hello,

You’ve reached the Imaginary Socialite. I’m a little achy and sicky and sad, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as the codine kicks in.

In the meantime, please find me the best Chanel shades for spring; I’m desperate.

xoxo IS

[JESS CAUFIELD - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Dear Mr. Bendel,

We have never met, but already, I feel we are great friends. Please visit me any time you are in the area; you will be most welcome.

xoxo IS

Mommy Dearest: So what was your favorite part of London?

Am I The IS: Um. That’s private.

Mommy Dearest: Is that your way of saying, “I met a really hot guy”?

Am I The IS: It’s my way of saying I found the Brown’s boutique, and there were these Ferragamo wedges by Allegra Hicks…

Mommy Dearest: Oh no.

Am I The IS: But I resisted the urge to buy anything over $500!

Mommy Dearest: Uh huh. Is that your way of saying you were responsible?

Mommy Dearest: Um, no. That’s my way of saying I met a really hot guy.

[AMANDA KAISER - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

“I love that you eat,” mumbles Heather Catania, as I take down two crab cakes alone. We’ve just escaped the Winona-Daria thicket known as the Marc Jacobs afterparty, and we only want fries.

“Did you see Rachel Bilson?” I giggle.
“So sweet,” she concurs. “When Adam was in LA…” Heather brushes away her bangs, and I remember how she can navigate a Soho gallery blindfolded and paint her own nails. And I can’t take anymore, and force feed her my shake.

“I love that you eat shakes!” she squeals, and I think, “you have no idea.”

Other NYLON loves: Ellen on 2 pages, and Greg on the masthead! Lovely!

[AYA KANAI - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Kirsten, 25

English breakfast.

Kenyan coffee.

French fries.

German chocolate cake.

California Dreamin.

[SARVANAZ GUIVI - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Once when I was 18, my dad called me. “So,” he said, worlds away. I was sitting on a stairwell, drawing on a wall that wasn’t mine with Sharpie. He didnt know that.

“So,” he said, “Can you do me a favor and not date photographers?”

My dad was a photographer.

“Can you just avoid those guys? They’ll want to take your picture. Everywhere. Naked. Don’t do it.”

By then I was scribbling on the floor. I drew flowers. I laughed at my dad and hung up.

***

Once before my brother ran away, he crashed a Chelsea art loft for a few days. Then my mom got a package from the gallery, with his name on it. Inside was his naked portrait. She started to laugh. “That’ll teach me to open someone else’s mail,” she cracked.

***

Two nights ago I grabbed a dinner dress from a borrowed bureau. “Hey wait,” said a voice from the bed. It had an accent. It was pretty hot. “Stay.” He came out with his camera.

“Oh no,” I grinned. “You’re not taking that picture. I know how this ends.”

“Do you?”

He kissed my cheek and grabbed his flash, and I realized no, I actually don’t.

[SOPHIE TOWILL - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]