Imaginary Socialite

Kate may rule Lafayette St, but here the buildings belong to Daria…

And all the mannequins in the windows look like Leigh…

Meanwhile, the Horrors are the latest pop pinups…

Chocolate space eggs go with everything…

And the walls don’t have ears, but they do have Spring ‘07 prints hanging side-by-side with nude oil portraits.

In other news, I cannot wait to come home.

[EMMA JADE - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

one. “Verboten,” I tell my mother as she steps into the elevator.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“You’re not allowed to use the elevator. It says so in our hotel room.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know mom; this is Europe. Maybe it’s to conserve energy or something. Come on, keep up.”

And so we take the stairs.

two: All I want is everything but I’ll settle for some chocolate. Fist-size eggs, Cadbury style but filled with hazelnut. “Those are for kids!” says the cashier and I feel like the Trix bunny. “Yes,” I answer, “I am only six. I am extremely tall for my age. It’s all the sugar they feed me in America.”

three: A small cafe with twinkly lights and a waitress with beautifully frayed Converse.

Imaginary Socialite: What’s this on the menu?

Waitress: I’m sorry, my English is very bad.

Imaginary Socialite: Okay, francais?

Waitress: No, I will show you. Gobble! Gobble!

The Waitress begins to flap her arms like wings.

Imaginary Socialite: Oh! Turkey!

Waitress: Yes! Would you like it to order?

Imaginary Socialite: Um, no. Just six cups of kaffe, please.

four: Lying on the bed with my chocolate, which unravels in foil until… there is no chocolate, just a yellow plastic sphere and inside, where I thought would be hazelnut, is a little Lego robot. Oh.

I stare at the ceiling and re-translate the poster that says “no elevator.” Except it says, “if the building is on fire, please do not use the elevator.” Ooh.

On TV is a documentary on Lohan, and one on Calder, both English with German subtitles.

“Misunderstood, all of us,” I mutter, and flick off the light.

[REBECCA VOIGHT - AM I THE IMAGINAR SOCIALITE?]

Is this purple Longchamp…

a) Part of the Slominski exhibit at the Museum Fur Moderne Kunst

b) Real and from my last trip to Paris

c) Fake and from my last trip uptown

d) Stolen from the Scissor Sisters, who are staying in my hotel

[AXEL HOEDT - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

My lip gloss cost one euro and it made me think of this:

*How My Little Ponies smelled a little like sugared plastic when first pulled from their box.

*That time in college, when I slept in the Vogue editor’s bed and her cat pushed my thighs with her paws to wake me.

*A sky blue crayon melting across the back of the Chevy while I sat on the beach, coloring on cotton.

*A night with the famous writer, and when he said “I have mono” I said “that’s okay, I have stereo” and we drank hot pink tea.

*Kissing.

I pull out my Sidekick and text: Hey. Miss you too. The trains here are gleaming and great but they move way too slow.

[LARA SUAREZ - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

[A supermarket in Frankfurt, Germany. Because it's fun.]

Imaginary Socialite: I love how waffles come already baked in packages, like cookies. Omigosh mom, look at these heart shaped waffles!

Mommy Dearest: That. Is. Bizarre. And look at the little display picture on the package, of the couple eating heart waffles together. Very cheesy.

Imaginary Socialite: Oh! No! It’s cute! Don’t you think it’s cute?

Mommy Dearest: Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you the heart waffles?

Imaginary Socialite: No. I want there to be a hot guy, who I actually like back, who gets me heart shaped waffles!

Mommy Dearest: Well. If you want that, you’re going to have to stop being such a bitch.

(pause)

Imaginary Socialite: Um. Mommy, will you buy me waffles?

Mommy Dearest: Sure baby.

[HOLLY WILLOUGHBY - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

I am under the weather and over the water so no wonder I’m confused. The shimmers on the river match the shivers in the air, and also suck: every two seconds I’m shaking.

“Take this,” says my mother in her newly practiced German and I’m swathed in her faux fur cape, so black it looks real and so huge it fits over my actual coat. “Put the hood on,” she instructs, “It’s very Natasha.”

Note how she didn’t say, it’s very Milla, or Sasha, or Tanya D.

Instead I am a cartoon villainess with purple hair and a permanent sneer. Which is half-true, anyway. “Bullvinkle I vill get you!” I cackle down the main boulevard; several small children look up and laugh. So does my brother, who is gigantic and too young even though he’s 23, and older than me by half a lightyear and too much frosting. But I’m catching up.

At 9 am New York time I walk to a cafe and ask for coffee with milk and sugar. The waitress grabs a can of whipped cream and assaults my drink with it. I thank her in broken bits of her language and search for somewhere quiet to laugh.

Our hotel is across the street from the zoo and the world is trying to tell us something.

[RICHARD RUSSO - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Hi, you’ve reached the Imaginary Socialite.

I’m off to Karl Lagerfeld’s homeland to play in the snow for the week. If I can find a cafe with amazing hot chocolate and wireless, I’ll check in before New Year’s.

If not, see you at the party.

xoxo IS

[HEIDI KLUM - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

All I want for Christmas is you

[TWO THUMBS UP - FINE HOLIDAY FUN]

Yet another reason why my street is the best: check out the graffiti on the wall - MK was saying, “no, you’re prettier” to Ashley. And now… um… she’s not.

[JESSICA CAPSHAW - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

It’s a black Jeep and everything is too big - the seats, the pedals, the Starbucks cups that my friends leave in back.

After a Connecticut parking lot my dad makes me trade. I drive down the highway and hate him for swapping my music, Stones for Beatles, Dylan for Chapin, Christina for Britney. But he lets me speed, and he doesn’t answer his phone when it rings, and it’s good.

Just before Yale we hit a Pack - a junket of Volvo and Coupers and Saabs, schooling down the freeway like Finding Nemo following the rules.

“Get rid of them,” instructs my dad, and I pump ‘90 and we skid the air.

“This is way too fast,” I laugh, and he nods. “You’ve always got to get ahead of people, even if it means you break some rules,” he says. “Otherwise, you just get stuck behind them, and you never want to look at someone’s tail lights. Just keep your eyes on the road.”

Eight years later and my best friend from high school hitches a ride in the new Jeep.

“This is way too fast!” she squeals on the highway and our Starbucks cups tip sideways. “Hey,” she says when the window rolls up, “I heard you keep flaking on guys that like you. Why?”

“I don’t flake!” I giggle. “I just need someone who can keep up. That’s hard, you know?”

“You should slow down sometimes,” she scoffs, and I do once we hit an empty stretch of road. “So wait, isn’t there anyone you like now?”

And I do but I don’t answer, and we get where we’re going like 30 minutes before the rest of our friends.

[DANICA PATRICK - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Fact: In a past life, I was an actress.
Fact: I love good musical theatre.
Fact: There is almost no good musical theatre.
Fact: Spring Awakening is so blackly beautiful and bizarrely fun you might just get addicted.
Fun Fact: Composer Duncan Sheik, Yesterday Crush Marieke, and the Imaginary Socialite all went to the same boarding school.

Check it out; it’s not like you’re doing any real work today anyway…

[JANE ASHER - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]