Wednesday Martin, author of Primates of Park Avenue, she found herself, she says, “going native.” She wanted to belong among the Upper East Side mommies who hired stylists and makeup artists for school drop-off and pickup, who got preventive Botox every three months, who perfected the flawless facade.
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In many ways, this is the female version of my new book, Urban Dystrophy, now available on #Amazon.
Again, money is the buy-in, followed by a tightly-scripted narrative to which all aspirants must adhere – to the letter.
Think of it as high school all over again, but without the food fights.
Men know all about this.
In exchange for a residence at “900 Park Avenue,” women stand at the Devil’s Crossroads and relinquish their souls for a table at the right restaurant where people eat each other.
The ones who survive have the most checks on the list of must-haves.
Age comes to mind.
To wit, the author refuses to reveal her age.
All we know is “I’m in my 40’s.”
The reason for this is academic:
Not only are women expected to perform well under the scrutiny of white hot halogen, but because youth and beauty are expected to be indelible commodities, the farther away one drifts, the more perilous the journey.
No wonder Botox runs like rivers on the Upper East Side.
Mothers then pass these values on to their children, who attend the right schools, go on the right play dates, have the right tutors, and generally, explore all that “intensive mothering” can – and damn well better – provide.
People say celebrities are so different from everyone else, but when it gets down to it, money is what splits the herd.