Adventures of a Hamptons Social Butterfly

Written By: Petra C.  Kopf

My birthday is around the corner. Birthdays often cause many to reflect on where one’s life is at the present moment.   I am usually trying to figure out the weather and where to party.

But this year was different, it was a milestone birthday year. My birthday is September 4th, at the end of the summer around Labor Day. I started drifting off thinking about my past birthdays in the Hamptons. As a New York City single working gal living in Manhattan, the Hamptons are my escape, my mecca, my retreat, my holy land.

My pre-birthday life reflection daydream was suddenly interrupted by a phone call from a new acquaintance. Jerome is a Foreign Currency trader, who landed back in New York, after a stint in Japan. My friend Maria used to work with him and she introduced us. Jerome and I hit it off after our first meeting, given our shared warped sense of humor.

Jerome asked without hello “So what are you doing Labor day Weekend?” Traders tend to not beat around the bush with small talk, especially during trading hours.

I said gleefully, “It is my birthday weekend and I will be celebrating in the Hamptons!”   Jerome replied, “Why? What is so great about the Hamptons? I like the Jersey shore, it is not so pretentious.”

I smiled through my gritted teeth, since I found Jerome appealing, despite his Wall Street trader bravado. I was still in no mood for a “Hamptons versus Jersey Shore” debate.   I decided to enlighten my new friend though. My first question was “Where did you stay when you went to the Hamptons?” He said he had actually never been there.

I stated firmly, “Well you really haven’t lived, until you have been to the Hamptons!” but in order to effectively convince him what is so great about the Hamptons, the flashback review of my fun times in the Hamptons resumed In my brain, except at a much faster pace. The following snippets of my years of Hampton adventures popped up:

  • The scenic ride to Montauk with a delicious lobster roll sandwich stop and a Banana Daiquiri at Cyril’s road side restaurant
  • A deep tissue massage at the Gurney’s Inn spa and dancing to reggae on the beach afterwards
  • Lying flat on the Quogue beach with an umbrella shielding my freckled face and blonde hair from bleaching out, while mindlessly watching the waves crash on the sand
  • The delicious tropical ice tea at Golden Pear Café which fully satisfies my addiction to ice tea
  • Standing next to Barbara Kopple in front of the Cabana night club in Southampton and striking up a conversation with her to find out she is filming a documentary on the Hamptons
  • Watching Christie Brinkley and Alec Baldwin, at a non-profit event, speak with incredible passion on how we need to protect our East End environment
  • Sunsets at Wolffer’s wine stand in Bridgehampton with some good music and old friends roaming around
  • A Romantic trip to “Potato beach” in Sagaponack at night under the summer moonlit sky

My head started to focus instead on the many fun Hampton parties I attended, but the flow stopped mid-stream. None of this, especially the black tie parties was going to interest this sporty guy much, except maybe the food and wine stops.

“The Hamptons can be as glam or as relaxed as you want it to be. You can get gussied up for a gala or relax on the beach. I can’t do justice to the beauty of the Hamptons fully in words. You need to see it for yourself,” I stated. I told him to pick up Dan’s Paper on the street corner to read about the Hamptons events coming up like the Easthampton “Artists Versus Writers” charity softball game and pick a weekend to come to my family house in Quogue.

Of course, Jerome chose the weekend to come to the Hamptons with a serious hurricane on the way. I was concerned about how this would turn out, but he actually loved the risk of the turbulent weather and being thrown around while wind surfing in Hampton Bays.

He started to love the Hamptons, not exactly my way, but love it nonetheless. Within a few months Jerome bought a house around the corner from me and was therefore, no longer a Jersey shore boy.