Desperately Seeking The Hamptons

A snapshot of New York on May 23: It was 1PM on a 70 degree Friday, the one right before Memorial Day/party/relaxation/tanning sessions weekend, and on a race to beat time I was chasing up the stairs off the D train on 34 street, a.k.a a mob scene of tourists capturing our city in one snapshot, flyers attacking from all directions and frantic taxis driven by even more bitter drives who are determined to reach your requested destination even if that means endangering the lives of others. Loaded for a tip a la Hamptons, a shoulder bag, Crackberry in my right and iPod in my left, I elbow through the unwilling-to-move crowds, teeth grinding and spitting curses at those happy faced, I (heart) New York, visitors.

Not accountable for my poor-planning, I toned down my craziness by pasting a smile on a face that has long been craving the attention of some warming sunlight. So, I handed over New York to the visitors who adore it, for the appealed of blue skies and white sand were in the horizon. A few hours later, living up to my pal’s predictions, the moment I stepped over the gap and off the train, my lungs experienced what can only be described as a metamorphosis, the fresh breeze filtering through them! “Umm-ah!” is correct and so is every trail of events that followed. Saturday night, span off with a big bang at home over a combination of coffee and different mixed drinks only to be carried on to Almondcello, a bar where men came and went and, the ambience, was nothing short of gorgeous couples and persons who had escaped New York’s heat and opted for the cool, sea-side spots.

The sun fell, the lights went on and the much anticipated urban masses crowded the bar at Nello Summertimes, the new addition to join the family of celeb-faves in the Hamptons. The line outside was proof to its reputation and inside the tables were stacked, music filled the air thick; the dance floor was a body of sweat, short dresses, preppy button-downs and accents of all kinds. Shortly, I found myself sitting in the table of Jerry Tam, designer and co-founder of FORM collection, a friend who never forgets a face.

With the dance floor moved into the restaurant, I managed to spin around in my crazy shoes and spill no glasses in the house. Dancing until sunrise, most of the Sunday was spent by the pool recharging much needed energy. Back on the train to NEW YOR CITY at 8PM, 12AM sharp, I was ready for a one-on-one introduction to Owen Wilson. One cab ride later, I found myself in a hush-hush bar at the foot of the East Village. When Wilson himself made an appearance, in a baseball cap that was meant to shield his identity, it was useless for eyes were all on him. Considering that this was Memorial Day weekend, the party was over at 2:30AM. From there, my crew and I walked down to the Box and as never before it was closed. Now what, where would we go? Taxi! Up we went to Cipriani where in the first level tables were on top of another, but upstairs karaoke songs such as “Gimmie More” kept the party sharper and louder. Flying high once more, and this being the last destination, Le Souk, was sardine-like jammed packed but somehow I was able to sit and have a glass to go with it. Falling asleep as the sun came up, five o’clock seemed good for me to unbuckle my shoes and choose this time, destination bed!

Written By: Anisa Hasani