Christa Bell

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

How To Be A Rich Bitch In The Hamptons

i'm trying to be cool about it but really, i'm wildly impressed. i'm in south hampton right now staying in a $25,000,000 "cottage" because some friends of mine are working this summer as "organic chefs" for the daughters of a russian billionaire. a few things: "organic chefs" is in quotes because neither of them really are. this job is on some "homegirl hookup". one of the "help" is a member of the new york crew and was in charge of staffing the house for the summer. she passed my girls off as chef and nutritionist and so, here we are.

the "girls" are russian socialites, 21 and 29 years old, who receive monthly allowances of $40,000 each (in addition to $27,000/month for food and around $30,000 for staff), and who call themselves "heiresses", have paid $650,000 to rent this house out for the summer (sorry, i can't quite resist numbers dropping, and since i know you're wondering, their father is worth $18 billion. daily intrest: $250,000,000) and, are, by all accounts, the two most boring people on earth. whatever. they let the help have the run of the place 3 days out of every week (including a three week on-site paid vacation in august) while they're off trading yachts and drugs in st. tropez with paris hylton (no. really. they do.) or hanging out on park avenue, and this, my friends, is where i come in. oh is it ever good being best friend to the "b" people.

how to be a rich person: first, one or two spigots in a shower is hardly enough to get you clean. seven is the minimum, but in a summer rental you can get away with five. after all, toes are just as important and worthy of full on jet blasts as shoulders. end body part apartheid now!

next, your refrigerator should be as large as your wealthiest servant's entire apartment. this is mandatory. if you have to ask why, clearly you are out of your tax bracket.

oh, and of course you must spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a decorator to ensure that your home is devoid of any personal style or quirky originality. let your decorator, er, "home design specialist", convince you that plaid walls are fly and a maroon, olive and gold color scheme isn't wack.

don't forget the flatscreen televisions on every available wall surface to stand in as art. unless you're really rich, then, bring your uptown art to display at your summer cottage, but let it be bland as tofu and hardly worth the effort.

if you really wanna live it up, show the world that you, indeed, are runnin' thangs, from your luxurious bedroom, scream the name of one of your staff at the top of your lungs as if you were being plundered by the saxons. when she comes running up two flights of stairs, gasping and panting prayers under her breath, collapse on your floor dramatically and pout softly, "i'm staaaaarving! make me something to eat?" this really happened.

and lastly, to really earn the title of "heiress" don't know how to plug a toaster into an electrical outlet and flop your wrist helplessly while fumbling with the cord and asking, "how does this thing work? oh forget it. just make me some toast!"

yes. i am hating a little. and what have these rich bitches done other than offer me a beautiful writing retreat, away from the city three days a week (three weeks in august) for the rest of the summer???...clearly i need to work on my judgement and compassion. ok! sheesh! a little bit of grattitude would be in order as well..more later...christa bell, poet and socialheavy