We interrupt your regularly scheduled partying to bring you this bulletin: A certain auburn-haired socialite and the star of tonight’s show is gone. Don’t put out the Amber alert or anything—I think we can safely say she left willingly. But a little after midnight, the face of the green movement was nowhere to be found. Most curious was her partner in crime: girl reporter A, known to be J’s frenemy, seems to be missing, too. Hmmm. Caviar-toast points and a jungle theme just weren’t cutting it for J? It’s my party and I’ll ditch if I want to?
So I guess it’s official, then: Leaving early is the new staying out all night. Unless you want to be seen as a friendless loser who has nowhere else to go, make sure you leave a party before the witching hour—when the bartenders stops serving drinks, girls are found not so subtly taking naps on the furniture in the ladies’ lounge, and the bouncer is kicking people out instead of letting them in. Remember, it’s not a competition, and you’re not winning points for being the last one tottering around in your Manolos.
Of course, this time of night is when the afterparties start. If you’re hosting, proceed with caution. Sooner or later, your guests are going to fall asleep—most likely with each other. And the morning-after drama is not for the faint of heart.
So where does that leave you? You could be like some and skip the party to clean out your closet. At least you’ll be popular with your maid. Or you could host a hippie hempfest at your town house, like some others. Whatever you’re doing—whether you’re in the VIP room, knee-deep in couture, or getting wasted with your new BFF—have fun tonight! Or at least, with what’s left of it. There are about five hours till sunrise, which is when even I hang up my dancing shoes….
B outside her apartment building, throwing away armfuls of clothing and other trinkets. Spring cleaning in October?… A and J drinking five-dollar pitchers of Bud Light at some divey bar on Lispenard Street, around the corner from the Cashman Lofts—did the party change location? J stumbling into a cab, stumbling back into the lofts, then stumbling into an elevator with J.P.—and an army of photogs. Seems like one couple won’t be getting very much sleep… and not for the reason they’d hoped. O getting takeout at some Chinese joint on third, then hurrying home—solo. What a shame, especially since we all know what an aphrodisiac greasy Chinese food can be. R paying some pizza guy outside his apartment. I know prices have gone up, but the cash he slipped him seemed to more than cover a couple pies.
q: Dear Gossip Girl,
You’re cute. Tell you what. Meet me at the Waverly, 8 p.m., Monday. I’m gonna make you a star, kiddo.
—sunglassesatnight
a: Dear SatN,
Thanks for the invite, but I’m pretty content with my current star wattage.
—GG
q: Dear Gossip Girl,
I’m a guidance counselor at Harrington, a private, independent, all-boys boarding school in the UK. I received an application from one young man’s parents. He goes to an excellent school in Manhattan and has a stellar academic record. That’s all well and good, but we do like to get a sense of our boys through their peers so we’ll know if they’ll be a good fit into our community. If you can vouch for him, then we’ll let him in immediately. Cheerio!
—RugbyandCrew
a: Dear Rugby,
Sadly, I don’t think this bloke will be able to be pulled away from New York—or his mother’s greenhouse—any time soon. The climate of the UK isn’t so good for the type of growth he wishes to do. Although he certainly gets along with diverse groups!
—Gossip Girl
All right. Back to the afterparty.
You know you love me.
gossip girl