Archive for March, 2008

Virgins’ Atlantic

Monday, March 31st, 2008

First they tell you you can’t sleep alone in a strange place

Then they tell you you can’t sleep with somebody else

But no matter the way you go down in your own space

Either way, it’s okay, you wake up with yourself

[WHITNEY VARGAS - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

On Wednesdays, We Wear Pink

Monday, March 31st, 2008

To: imaginarysocialite@gmail.com
From: AsIf@clueless.com

Hey there!!

What is Imaginary Socialite about? My name is Robin and I am a casting director for MTV’s new show “Paris Hilton’s my new BFF. “

I’m heading to NY in a week to cast for the show and am looking to tap into the socialite elite.

Let me know if you or any of your friends would have interest in auditioning!

Robin

Cool, I’m sure Zani and Byrdie and Fab would be so down with that.

And maybe Margherita can do the costumes?

[LILY ATHERTON - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Meet Your New Crush 275

Monday, March 31st, 2008

Christian, 22

Fierce.

Tranny.

Hot Mess.

But whatever.

Posh has his back!

[EMMA RYOTT - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Real or Fake: Fashion East

Monday, March 31st, 2008

Alexis bought this Chloe bag in China.

We know luxury goods are notoriously cheaper in China and Hong Kong, though we still haven’t figured out how/ or why.

Really, there’s nothing to figure out when you’re so jealous that chicks shopping in Shanghai can get a cute Dior boot and you have to pay your rent instead.

But the other thing about China is, well, it’s where a lot of fakes get made.

So which assembly line, exactly, did this black tote fall off of?

[HELOISE GUERIN - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Why is Your Site So Green and Silly?

Sunday, March 30th, 2008

I don’t know and we’re trying to fix it. Stay tuned babes.

[JOHNNY DRAMA - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

I’m Mr. Bright Side Eyes

Friday, March 21st, 2008

For those of you playing White Russian Roulette with tonight’s drinking plans:

Conor Oberst is making a small and “secret” appearance at Hanger Bar on 3rd St. tonight, much the same way that Cher and Dionne made a small cameo at the Val party in 1993.

Also, Geordon says someone cool is DJing with him at Annex, which means it’s either Isabelle + Cory, the guy from Pulp, or Karl Lagerfeld since he’s in town.

You are encouraged to visit both options, and to not eat yellow snow… or yellow vodka.

[NATALIE DORMER - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Turn Back Time

Monday, March 10th, 2008

I found my CDs from 11th Grade in the back of my mom’s SUV.

Here’s the Best Of, now in my iPod (and how fun to think, at age 16, it would have been on a mixtape, which would have taken like twelve years to make).

Anyway, here we go:

Still Rock And Roll To Me, Billy Joel
Love is the Law, The Seahorses
Rock and Roll, Velvet Underground
Don’t Speak, No Doubt
Her Majesty, The Beatles
Forever Your Girl, Paula Abdul
Substitute for Love, Madonna
Foolish LoveRufus Wainwright
Polyester Bride, Liz Phair
Brian Wilson, Bare Naked Ladies
That’s The Way, Led Zeppelin
I Want You To Want Me, Letters to Cleo (cover)
Different Light, The Bangles

Happy birthday, J.M. Imbrescia!

[BARBARA LANDIS CHASE - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Real or Fake: Lagerfeld Confidential

Monday, March 10th, 2008

This past year has seen counterfeit stuff move from bags to clothes.

Courtney Love got busted wearing a Chanel knockoff, while Forever 21, TopShop, and Abercrombie all got hit with copyright lawsuits.

And while Canal Street continues to get “cracked down” on their faux bag trade, we’ve seen fake tees from Juicy Couture, House of Holland, Gucci, and Prada lining the streets.

But how about this Lagerfeld Gallery tee, as sported by fashion assistant Chris? Did he make it himself with his Parsons friends in a silkscreen lab, or just swipe it from his favorite rock band on a shoot?

[NATASHA POLY - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Dress Me Up, Dress Me Down

Sunday, March 9th, 2008

Made 4 Chanel: Wanna hear my style for summer?

Am I The IS: Of course!

Made 4 Chanel: Okay, ready? It’s Zack Morrissey.

Am I The IS: What?!

Made 4 Chanel: Yeah, it’s gonna be a total cross between like, nu rave ’80s prep and art-boy ’80s street.

Am I The IS: That sounds kind of amazing. Well, I have my summer style, but I haven’t named it. You want to try?

Made 4 Chanel: Yeah, give it to me.

Am I The IS: Okay, it’s like Amy Winehouse post rehab and having a tea party on the roof of a country club.

Made 4 Chanel: Oh, you know what that is? That’s called High Street Society.

Am I The IS: Oh yeah, I guess so.

Am I The IS: That’s kind of funny.

[ROSE BYRNE - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Campaign Trail

Wednesday, March 5th, 2008

The primaries are done, but you can still rock the vote in another important way:

Clicking on Leigh and Henry.

They’ve been entered into Style.com’s Look of the Day contest, but their competition is sort of steep:

Demi Moore, Kerry Washington, and a bunch of non-imaginary socialites who’ve resorted to every fake eyelash on earth in order to edge out our favorite party babes.

Do your part and keep them on top!

[RICHARD MORTIMER - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Thoughts That Make You Go Pop

Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

1. “80s Night” on American Idol is ridiculous, because all the guys sound like gay lounge singers. I can’t drink my tea until commercials because I’m laughing so hard.

2. 10 Things I Hate About You is on Cable, and it should be fun, but it’s suddenly become a really sad artifact, instead of a cool and silly movie. Boo.

3. Breakfast really does make the day easier, especially if it includes ice cream.

4. It’s weird that Kate Hudson and Drew Barrymore aren’t, like, best friends.

5. The Kohl’s commercials stole the finale song from High School Musical.

5a. Every girl looks good in a clean white t-shirt.

[TALLULAH HARLECH - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

The Laundry List

Monday, March 3rd, 2008

On the floor with Earl Gray, and you say you don’t believe in past lives. Of course, that’s silly because you’ve already had them. You’ve said so.

Life #3, you were in high school, throwing rocks at the girl’s window, but the rock was too big and then pane cracked and shrieked, and you were so grounded.

Life #6, you only listened to Led Zeppelin, on vinyl, with the door locked, while trying to finish your thesis project blueprints and getting a little high.

Cats only get nine lives, but I think you’re up to twelve, sitting on the wood and asking me again why I won’t wear an evening gown. Well I have other lives too, along with some opinions, which go like this:

1. I don’t care how fancy the party is; evening gowns are so ’90s I can’t stand it.

2. I am shorter and rounder than a model, and those are the only women who can convincingly sheath themselves in 10 yards of chiffon without looking like a bolt from Mood Fabrics.

3. I had a great evening gown, but I lost it around Life #10. And I never got another one.

It was inky black and paper thin, embroidered with yellow stars and pink flowers. If it were made from cotton, it could have been a normal sundress, but the sheen of the silk and the spin of the thread pushed it somewhere closer to tapestry. Also, it plunged down my back and I was long and blonde then, so that helped.

I was 21 when I bought it, and it came with a boy, my height and jacked. My friends would fight over which was nicer, his smile or his car. It was a Saab convertible, so I guess that won.

There are some boys whose skin is so tight on their shoulders and wrists that you can feel warm blood underneath, and when they pin you to a wall, it’s like crawling under a tanning booth with your eyes shut. He was like that, and he wrote poems and they were sort of awful - the girls staged readings of them on my rug, with giggles, with screams, with shots.

I finally gave into those girls and came to a sorority dance, and brought the boy with me. We ditched about ten minutes later and walked to a gas station on a farm for beer.

We hauled three cases on our backs and dumped them on the college football field, deserted and thrumming electric with lights. “I can take you,” I gleamed, and we shotgunned the beers until we were dizzy and cheshire-grinned. He picked me up and we danced, but his foot stomped on the wrong edge, and suddenly - sprinklers.

We were soaked but we kept dancing. We ambushed the grass until it turned to green stringy mush under our feet. He leaned in to kiss me but the swish was too much, and whoomp, I was down.

He slammed onto my chest with such a thump that he pushed me through the ground, and at first I thought the squish noise was our kissing, but no - it was mud. My hair, my back, my gown smeared brown, and we rolled so fast that we wrapped ourselves in sludge. It was a Glastonbury dream, and disgusting, and when we finally came up for air, his face was streaked with worms and my hair was snarled with slime. I laughed so hard that I ripped off all his clothes.

Before the sun came up, we doused ourselves in sprinkler drops and he carried me home wrapped in his tux jacket. Now that I think of it, it was very YSL ‘06. Anyway. We dumped the evening gown in the trash by the gym. I’ve never bothered to replace it.

As for your party, maybe in my past life I would have worn a long dress, but in this one, I think I have a strapless Luella that I got in London. It’s expensive but short, just like your drinking date. Hope that’s okay.

[NICO - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]