yelling, “Hey girls! Did you miss me?” from the otherside of the restaurant. She waved at each table as she walked toward us. Julie knows everyone in New York, absolutely everyone.
Julie’s look that day could be described as walking-safety-deposit-box. She was unashamedly swinging several Van Cleef & Arpels bags. On her index finger was a gold cocktail ring shaped like a rose and studded with garnets; she had new gold hoops in her ears; on her arm was a platinum and emerald bracelet.
“Presents!” she said, collapsing on the banquette and dropping her loot. She handed the three of us a tiny bag each. Inside was a pavé diamond heart identical to the one around Julie’s neck.
“Julie, you can’t!” I gasped.
I honestly meant it, but at the same time prayed that Julie would ignore my protestation. I just adore diamonds, they make a girl feel really good about herself, especially when she’s feeling a bit low.
“Oh, don’t worry, honey. They were almost free ,” said Julie. “I wanted to celebrate love, which is why I got us all a heart.” She had a triumphant look on her face that signified one thing—a recent shopping success of the illegal kind.
“Julie, you’ve been stealing stuff again, haven’t you?” said Lara.
“Almost!” She gulped. She glanced furtively about her and whispered, “I’ve just been to the Van Cleef über- über -private-favorite-clients-only studio sale that, like, virtually no one gets invited to. I gotso much cheap stuff you won’t believe it. They virtually gave me those hearts.”
Lara looked like a block of salt. She had gone into mega-sulk mode. This tends to happen to Lara on a daily basis. She spoke in a low, very intense voice.
“But I’m their favorite private client! That’s it , I’m leaving ,” she said, throwing down her napkin, grabbing her phone, and stomping angrily from the restaurant.
She must have been très traumatized because she left her monogrammed Kelly bag behind, a bag she’d waited over four and a half years for on the Hermès list. Poor Lara. Some girls just can’t deal with the brutal hierarchy of sample sales. I mean, the whole thing is so political, sometimes I wish Condoleezza Rice would come in and sort it all out.
“Drat. That is a Shame Attack waiting to happen. I’m going after her,” said Jolene gathering up her things. As she was leaving the table she said to me, “My driver will pick you up at 6:45 AM tomorrow. Don’t be late, and remember to find out which bag Zach’s mother wants.”
“Well. Some of us get to go to Chanel sales and some of us get to go to diamond sales. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles, sales-wise!” Julie sighed. She was beyond thrilled with herself. “ Poor Lara. She needs to reevaluate her value system. I mean, someone kind really needs to tell her that if she’s not careful she’s going to become one of the most superficialtwenty-four-year-olds on Park Avenue. Heartbreaking really.”
Julie’s honesty about her good friends is refreshing, but it’s lucky I am not the gossipy type or most of her good friends wouldn’t be her good friends for long. Suddenly Julie looked uncharacteristically solemn. She said she had something difficult to tell me.
“Charlie’s gone back to LA. I’m gutted of course, but I insisted he send me flowers once a week and he agreed immediately —”
“How cute,” I said. Julie obviously had Charlie wrapped around her little finger, even though they’d known each other only a few weeks. There was a pregnant pause, and Julie shot me a severe look. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
“There isn’t one, because that is how a man should behave.” She started to whisper. “And yours is not behaving right. He’s making you miserable.” How Julie could not see that I was officially Deliriously Happy I know not. “Look at you, you’re totally ana,” she went on. “Which would normally be the best compliment I could pay another girl, but
Julie’s look that day could be described as walking-safety-deposit-box. She was unashamedly swinging several Van Cleef & Arpels bags. On her index finger was a gold cocktail ring shaped like a rose and studded with garnets; she had new gold hoops in her ears; on her arm was a platinum and emerald bracelet.
“Presents!” she said, collapsing on the banquette and dropping her loot. She handed the three of us a tiny bag each. Inside was a pavé diamond heart identical to the one around Julie’s neck.
“Julie, you can’t!” I gasped.
I honestly meant it, but at the same time prayed that Julie would ignore my protestation. I just adore diamonds, they make a girl feel really good about herself, especially when she’s feeling a bit low.
“Oh, don’t worry, honey. They were almost free ,” said Julie. “I wanted to celebrate love, which is why I got us all a heart.” She had a triumphant look on her face that signified one thing—a recent shopping success of the illegal kind.
“Julie, you’ve been stealing stuff again, haven’t you?” said Lara.
“Almost!” She gulped. She glanced furtively about her and whispered, “I’ve just been to the Van Cleef über- über -private-favorite-clients-only studio sale that, like, virtually no one gets invited to. I gotso much cheap stuff you won’t believe it. They virtually gave me those hearts.”
Lara looked like a block of salt. She had gone into mega-sulk mode. This tends to happen to Lara on a daily basis. She spoke in a low, very intense voice.
“But I’m their favorite private client! That’s it , I’m leaving ,” she said, throwing down her napkin, grabbing her phone, and stomping angrily from the restaurant.
She must have been très traumatized because she left her monogrammed Kelly bag behind, a bag she’d waited over four and a half years for on the Hermès list. Poor Lara. Some girls just can’t deal with the brutal hierarchy of sample sales. I mean, the whole thing is so political, sometimes I wish Condoleezza Rice would come in and sort it all out.
“Drat. That is a Shame Attack waiting to happen. I’m going after her,” said Jolene gathering up her things. As she was leaving the table she said to me, “My driver will pick you up at 6:45 AM tomorrow. Don’t be late, and remember to find out which bag Zach’s mother wants.”
“Well. Some of us get to go to Chanel sales and some of us get to go to diamond sales. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles, sales-wise!” Julie sighed. She was beyond thrilled with herself. “ Poor Lara. She needs to reevaluate her value system. I mean, someone kind really needs to tell her that if she’s not careful she’s going to become one of the most superficialtwenty-four-year-olds on Park Avenue. Heartbreaking really.”
Julie’s honesty about her good friends is refreshing, but it’s lucky I am not the gossipy type or most of her good friends wouldn’t be her good friends for long. Suddenly Julie looked uncharacteristically solemn. She said she had something difficult to tell me.
“Charlie’s gone back to LA. I’m gutted of course, but I insisted he send me flowers once a week and he agreed immediately —”
“How cute,” I said. Julie obviously had Charlie wrapped around her little finger, even though they’d known each other only a few weeks. There was a pregnant pause, and Julie shot me a severe look. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
“There isn’t one, because that is how a man should behave.” She started to whisper. “And yours is not behaving right. He’s making you miserable.” How Julie could not see that I was officially Deliriously Happy I know not. “Look at you, you’re totally ana,” she went on. “Which would normally be the best compliment I could pay another girl, but
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