I’m sure it does. It has to. It has to get worse than being the old chick at the Hamptons meet and greet. The Hamptons are really Manhattan with suntan lotion and sand. Everyone finds their way out there, to a share house, to wear black and hang out with the same faces they would run into in Manhattan. It’s just what we do. Here’s what I don’t do. I don’t do Star Room or Jet East. I’ve already made that promise. I wouldn’t do Marquee in Manhattan; I’m not doing velvet on the island. That’s just me.
I’d prefer to grill and booze it up on a hammock. I prefer flip flops to Gucci heels when it comes to summer. I want to escape Manhattan not rearrange it’s inhabitants. I enjoy the Hamptons because of the space, because of clam bakes, Webber grilles, and live music at Stephen’s Talkhouse. But that’s just me. Tonight, I attended a Hamptons meet and greet, where you meet people in your share house, on Bowery & Rivington. The organizer was dyslexic. "Irvington" sounded like a real street to all of us.
Tonight, at 29, I was the old chick. It was borderline mortifying. But I was already mortified earlier in the day, when an email I’d forwarded to a friend accidentally got forwarded on to the original recipient with all comments in tact. We’re all of the email era–error. We know about ‘reply to all,’ about ‘bcc,’ about carbon copied lives, yet my retard blond friend did the unspeakable and forwarded on a message showing my vulnerability. I have never said, ‘I could die" more often. "Reply to All" functionality ought to become extinct, like wisdom teeth or a tail. But it was me, so of course I laughed and didn’t really care. I’ll tell you what I cared about… being the OLD BAG at the Hamptons meet and greet. Everyone who talked to me was 24, and whenever I meet anyone younger than my very immature sister (who I love), who I’m supposed to spend time with, I begin to twitch. Okay, so I don’t twitch, but there’s something just wrong with the whole scenario. Had I the guest list in my inbox, I’d have hit reply to all, then typed "unsubscribe." There’s just something terribly depressing about being 29 at a party full of 24. I’m all of a sudden the old chick. I mean, really, the old chick, The Bag. I need new friends, older friends. 24, for me, is nothing more than a TV show and a way not to spend my summer.
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My how the other half lives…
The gray area between younger friends and older friends is like doing the limbo in purgatory. You're the neglectd middle-child of social life. Too old for TRL too young for VH1. What the hell am i talking about?
Hell, I'd just be glad to be invited to the party and rest on my laruels.
Nu? So now you're the alter kocker at 29?
Seriously though, who gets a Hamptons share house at 29?
Hey grrl, you know I'm getting a kick outta this because I was called the "older woman" when we were outed on gawker.
meanwhile, it just means move up to a new group where you are the young one. :)
it also means being with people who are the same life experience age as you which is not related to chronological age.
besides…city is so nice in the summer when the Upper East Side leaves for the Hamptons. consider your options!
The Hamptons are really Manhattan with suntan lotion and sand.
when did this happen?
Yeah, sure, the twenties were fun. But, having lived in NYC for 15+ years now, I can tell you that my thirties have been much more fun and much more satisfying than my twenties ever were. You have a firmer grip on who you are, you have a wider set of friends, you have a bit more disposable income, you have a wider range of interests, etc. Maybe its just me but I would take my thirties over my twenties any time. So, as you sit at 29, rest assured that it gets better, not worse.
Don't worry about the 25-30 year olds. You may "envy" then from afar, but up close you'll despise them. You'd rather spend time with the 35-40 year olds (like myself, I might add).
Forget those Hamptons Stephanie Honey…
The Jersey Shore is where you want to be and if I may be so bold bring Rachel (Rachelle?) along while you're at it!
Age gaps.
It's interesting to consider what five years' difference really means — 4 compared to 9, 14 compared to 19, 24 to 29, 34 to 39 . . . . The gap shrinks with age, as the kinds of questions we ask about ourselves and the larger world evolve.
The Hamptons share creates a time-warp. I can offer up a couple of analogies.
I was a college professor for a few years, and the students never got any older (a fresh crop of 18-year-olds arived each fall).
Then, again, when I first got to Manhattan as a newly-minted lawyer, most of my colleagues were 25 year olds and I was 38. We shared enough in common (the shock and excitement of landing in a big Manhattan law firm) that the age difference didn't matter at work, but our lives outside of work barely intersected, and many of them had yet to form, let alone be able to share, core values. Over the five years that I practiced in Manhattan, every summer and fall, a new crop of 25-year-old summer/associates would arrive — only I (but never they) got any older.
The happy ending.
Many of these former colleagues have become friends over the past 8 years, and the age gap is not even noticeable.
… it worked for Demi.
I'm 29 this year and actually I think I'd rather be 29 than 24. When I was 24 I didn't know anything, but I thought I did, which is a dangerous combination. Now, I don't know anything but I know it.
how funny, im 29, and a guy I met, who is 23, said to me "yes ma'am", I freaked, no no, screaming what the hell, I felt like an old douche bag…
I have that feeling almost daily. I work in an office of very young people…I'll be 40 this year (gulp). Sometimes it's annoying but sometimes, just sometimes…it's hilarious!
Wait til you are 33 hanging out with the 22 …
Oh god how I love hammocks and beer.
Summer is the best.
29 is just getting warmed up… I didn't know what the hell I was doing until at least 31.
Now I've got 12 more days left to be 39, but I'm taking comfort in my decision to tear through 40 to 50 like Mick Jagger did from 60 to 70. Then I'll go on tour. Although I just KNOW there's a gift-wrapped cane with a rear-view mirror and bicycle horn just around the corner. Think I'll trade it in for a hammock and a six-pack.
By the way, Stephanie, what the hell did you do to the Henry Hudson?!?
Yes, sometimes 29 feels like it might as well be 39. Much happens between 24 and 29. At least you can be the old, drunk chick in the hammock.
I dunno, at 28 (July 2004) you were taking photos of old cemeteries! Although they are beautiful in their own right, perhaps 24 (or 29 or 33 for that matter)is 100% better than the alternatives.
Take it from this funeral director, live for today, no matter your age. Life's short. Enjoy it while you can..even it that means the Hamptons and a share with the 'kids'!
Michael
p.s. LOVE your friend (lime green shirt, dark hair, jeteast_horses_001, et al). Wished she could/would be in all the pictures with you.
I'm 24. It's good to know it gets worse.
i have to ask you one question (well, maybe its 1 question but has multiple parts). dont you ever feel ridiculous posting pictures of yourself posing, etc. (especially in shots of you in a bathing suit)? and do the people that are ever taking the "posing" pictures of you think its ridiculous that they are taking the posed photos and that you are going to actually post them up on your blog for the world to see?
i just find it comical that you EVER write about taking offense to people invading your space, or thinkig they know you from your blog, and at the same time you are putting photos of yourself (yeah, just you alone, i mean, do you ever see anyone with photos of just themselves around their house, its strange) up on your blog.
to each his own, and its your blog and you can certainly do what you want. but i just cant believe that you, or the other people posing in the photos, dont feel ridiculous at getting in poses, and then posting the photos up on your public blog for the internet world to see.
i guess the question would be, who do you think would be interested in seeing you and your friends in your posed photos? i guess your answer might be, my blog is for my friends. but then i would say, that would be like posting photos of yourself at the supermarket that your friends shop at, rather than just giving the photos to them, or keeping them in your home.
it just seems bizarre, no?
To anonymous: I don't know Stephanie or any of her friends, but I enjoy looking at her pictures. She's a good photographer and sometimes it's entertaining to look at people you don't know and see the kind of fun they are having. But mostly, the pictures fill in the holes- the blog is Stephanie inside, what she thinks, how she feels. The pictures are how she really lives. And sometimes you need that balance- it's the balance between reality and fantasy, I suppose.
Didn't you ever hear that a picture is worth a thousand words?
My favorite movie is "Logan's Run" with Michael York and Jenny Agutter!!!!!!!! Ohmigod it's awesome!!!!!!! And Michael York is soooooo cute for a gay guy!!!! In this movie it's like the future and no one is allowed to be older than 30!!!!!!!! Once you turn 30 you either have to die or run away!!!!!! I hope my dad doesn't see it.
If 29 seems old and you don't like the youngins in the share house, why don't you try Ocean Beach, Fire Island.. I converted from the Hampton's years ago and I'm 31. No cars, nice people, local bars,hammocks, wine,BBQ's, and sunset's from my deck everynight… It is truly the Anti-Hampton! Old is a state of mind.. You love wine, just think of getting better with age!!!
The 24s will be 29 soon.. Armchair philosophy apart, I want to freeze my 20s. Not get any older. I like immaturity, narrow interests, formation. I hope I'm joking, but I don't think so!
i'm 24 and i have tons of friends who are 25-35, none of whom i consider terribly old, and NONE of whom i would call "ma'am". i also don't think they consider me to be that horrible either…perhaps you just got a really douchey bag of whippersnappers. we're not all that bad.
I live in the Hamptons, and a visitor's Hamptons is so different from mine! I'm glad you are enjoying the open space and going to the Talkhouse (I haven't been since the kids came – but have seen some of the best shows in my life there) The off seasons (which unfortunately are not so off anymore) are the best, and finding yourself alone on the beach is the best. Saw your picture of Cyril, it made me laugh, we had taken a bareboat charter in 1992 and went for a drink in Anguilla. There were only 6 customers there and one of them was Cyril. How weird is that?