I know what a Birkin bag is. That Hermes makes saddles. I can tell you what Paloma Picasso is up to. And no, I am not rich or famous. I live vicariously, and justify it as “research” for my writing. I have never actually written anything about a rich person, and my first novel is just beyond the gestational stage, but no matter.

I think it is important to know what people like Gwyneth Paltrow are eating (or not eating, as it happens). I may want to do a cleanse some day. It is certainly good to know that in mansions all across California, kale is being served. I still consider it a garnish, but if I decide that my bowels are toxic, I will know what to do.

Fur is coming back. Good to know. The pages of Town and Country are full of it. And apparently, if you want to wear fur, you need only wear what looks like a bathing suit under it. Also good to know. Thigh high boots with a bathing suit is a good look, and the endangered snow leopard coat hides cellulite well.

I keep up with trends in jewelry also. I know that the solitaire engagement ring went out about ten years ago, to be replaced with what looks like grandma’s estate jewelry. I was able to advise my daughters when they were looking at rings. I said I advised them, not that they listened or anything.

Bikram yoga is out, or on the way out. I guess too many celebs got heatstroke in those hot rooms. Now they are doing “partner Pilates,” which looks a lot like foreplay to me. With the benefit of increased core stability. What more could one need?

All this serves me in good stead. I know what purses to buy at Target. Mine looks just like the one Tilda Swinton carries. I got a pair of earrings at Macy’s that I swear no one would know didn’t come from Tiffany’s. Really. And at my last dinner party, I brought out some quasi quail eggs. Everyone was impressed. Nobody ate them. Myself included.

It is a challenge, keeping up with the one percent. But one day, I will write the great American novel, featuring the “haves” and the “have-nots.” There will be jewelry and an ocean. Wait. That’s The Great Gatsby, isn’t it? Ok. Mine will be The  Great Gatsby-ish.




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