Now that Leo, the sun-ruled astrological sign, has arrived to mark the height of summer, shoulders are bare and hairdos are beginning to rival the lion’s mane. Traffic was lighter last week, parties were quieter, and most of the cars on the road were company cars for cleaning companies or house-painting crews. It dawned on me: We were approaching Aug. 1. The new renters were arriving.
On the afternoon of July 29, I had an itch to go shopping to find something to wear to the opening of “Good Grief: Lucy Villeneuve” at the Keyes Gallery on Saturday night, so I pranced around the neighborhood, landing first at Ganeaux on Amagansett’s Main Street. I tried on a few pairs of bold dark sunglasses, the kind you wear when you’re in an underground salt-cave rave but that you could also wear on your way to dinner at Balthazar. I told myself what I often say: If it’s still here in a few days, it’s meant to be. After fishing my old sunglasses out of the bottom of my purse, I ran across the street to Henry Lehr, where my attention was drawn to a poplin dress from Xirena on the center rack: long, long-sleeved, and black, it had a collar and pearled buttons from the neck to the ankle. Could it be mine? It had to be! I tried it on and left with a bright-blue shopping bag.
On my way out, I ran into Brianna Ashe, an artist who lives in Amagansett, on a similar mission, shopping for a present for a friend at Elizabeth Eichner’s E-E Home. You never leave E-E Home emptyhanded, simply because the goods ( handmade blankets, flatware, tapered candles) are unlike anything else sold out here — and if other shops do carry similarly well-made items, the experience often feels overly curated and precious. Ms. Ashe and I had a quick catch up and she revealed a pair of shoes she had hand-painted just for me!
Thursday is the new Friday. That’s true for me and, I’m assuming, most of you. Traffic slows us down, the beach parking lots fill up by 9:10 a.m., and during the hour and a half it takes to run for a quart of milk you could have finished a load of laundry. However, for me, Thursday mornings are now a high point of the week, because that is when The East Hampton Star comes out.
At around 7:30 last Thursday morning, I perched to read the paper under the awning at the Golden Pear on Newtown Lane in East Hampton, accompanied by light mist and mizzle and a group of retired men chatting about what retired men talk about (golf, politics, their grandchildren), when a stylish woman walked out of the coffee shop and asked if it was still raining. “I think it’s just drizzling now,” I said. “But I’m only one, if you want to sit under here and keep dry.” Rachel Liverman and I quickly became friends, sharing stories of our summer nights, what we want to do, where we want to go, and how we both landed in the seats that we were sitting in. She is the founder and C.E.O. of Glowbar, a boutique skincare studio that offers targeted 30-minute facials. We swapped Instagrams and said we’d be in touch. Liverman was headed to Truth Training, one of the hottest, and hardest, workout classes there is in the Hamptons.
Friday morning was here, and the energy was up!
After my usual morning walk at the ocean, I went shower, dress, and hop on a Zoom call with Endrit Nurcaj, who was visiting the South Fork for the first time. Nurcaj is the visual project manager for the Swiss lifestyle magazine Encore!, and is known online (@endr on Instagram) for showcasing his own outfits, pairing interesting colors with unique silhouettes. Nurcaj joined me from the living room of the house where he was staying. After getting settled with his Goldberg’s bagel — welcome to the Hamptons! — we had a fun chat about the dos and don’ts, and what he was surprised by.
“I think people are rediscovering the pleasure of dressing for an occasion,” he said. “A gala, a wedding, or a charity dinner deserves its own uniform. There’s something respectful, and enjoyable, about embracing a dress code. When I get dressed for an event, I don’t start by asking ‘What do I want to wear?’ I ask, ‘Where am I going?’ The setting should always guide the outfit.”
We share similar feelings on making an entrance to the party, and that to do so you must first understand one thing: Who you are.
“I spend a lot of time at fashion weeks, and the people whose style I remember are rarely the most extravagant. They’re usually the ones who look completely comfortable in what they’re wearing. Confidence is probably the best accessory anyone can wear.”
Wearing a monochrome bright-green outfit myself, I smiled, nodded, and took notes. I thought about what I’d wear to Lucy Villeneuve’s opening, and put the black Henry Lehr dress to the side. A white dress by Cos was going with me instead.
Saturday was quite the day. My friend Suzie Kondi, the designer, had a frozen-yogurt garden party with Jean Prounis, a jewelry designer who is in residence at her Amagansett shop, and we ate sour cherry and plum fro-yo from a company called Sour Cherry topped with olive oil and pistachio. I still had the shopping bug, and left with the Anytime Sweatshirt and matching pants in black. I almost never leave her shop emptyhanded, either, and this new set is going to be perfect for slipping on after a swim.
I spotted Lori Hirschliefer going into Christina Horan’s shop, Deep Blue Vintage, which had been on my list of places to hit up for quite some time. I went in and tried on a vintage Christian Dior nightdress, pants that had looked big enough to fit (but weren’t), and a 1920s tuxedo shirt. Although I do have two tuxedo shirts already in my closet from Pam Melet’s collection, I’m still thinking about that tuxedo shirt. Well, if it’s still there tomorrow . . .
After walking through the field beside Miss Amelia’s Cottage, where Deep Blue is housed, and back into the heart of the village, I spotted Matthew Broderick in a Knicks T-shirt, khaki shorts, and a backpack. He seemed to be on a mission. (Maybe on his way to meet Sarah Jessica at the Jitney stop?) I also said hi to Paul McCartney, who was stopping by the barn studio of the Amagansett painter John Alexander.
That night, although I should not have been surprised, I was amazed at just how difficult it was to find parking in Sag Harbor for the opening at the Keyes Gallery. I finally left my car about a 15-minute walk away. Once I made it to the party, I found I was one of the shortest people there. I couldn’t see around well enough to get a good grasp at who was in the room. But after a few minutes of crowd and confusion I was able to catch up with Lily O’Neill, Gwen O’Neill, and Frances Sacks. The guests seemed to be mostly wearing vintage: Ferragamo shoes, Dior slip dresses, and hand-crocheted lace. Lots of white, lots of florals. There was one group of men who all wore khaki shorts with the four-inch inseam. I complimented one of these guys’ shoes: Rod Laver’s Adidas sneakers, which are deadstock now and impossible to get your hands on.
The room was hot, and the art was on fire. Most pieces were sold or were selling in that very moment. There were small, framed works you could fit in the palm of your hand and others that would soon sit above the mantlepiece of summer homes in Sag Harbor and Southampton.
Also there on Saturday was Gresa Shoshi. She introduced herself, I told her my name, and she realized we knew each other back in the day; she was shocked at how I’ve grown up. We shared our admiration for the show and, as you do, we compared notes on how the South Fork is always changing, though much of it always remains the same, sort of like an everchanging tide.
While getting some fresh air and checking my text messages, I spotted my new friend Rachel Liverman and some friends giggling over martinis and waiting for their plates at the American Hotel. I became their live entertainment. I also met Brad and Shirin Green dining just next to Liverman on the porch.
While I waited for a takeout pizza from Sag Pizza, I overheard a few comments and laughs about my outfit from some teenagers as well as a few husbands. The wives smiled at my look, and two even asked where my dress was from. It seems Nurcaj’s advice is true: The best accessory is confidence.
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Frankie Bademci grew up in East Hampton Village and holds master’s degrees in art history and visual art. He previously wrote art criticism and artist profiles for The East Hampton Press, Southampton Press, and Sag Harbor Express and is now writing dispatches for The Star and East magazine from all the best parties, art openings, haute-hippy happenings, random bar run-ins, literary soirees, and society scenes.
