The Suburban Socialite

June 21, 2008

Socialites are a glamorous being found mainly in metropolitan areas, such as New York, Los Angeles, London, Milan and Paris, Toronto being a smaller city has its’ handful of up-and-comers, party girls with too much of daddy’s money and are deemed socialites as well.

My one favourite friend, Taylor, is a Toronto socialite. Her father owns a marketing/media company as well as a number of posh resto-lounges throughout the city, all of which makes Taylor a rich girl. She doesn’t work, sleeps in until 11 everyday, and makes shopping and partying her only two bullets on her list of things to do.

I used to envy Taylor, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, her tiny body sculpted to perfection by a combination of pilates, personal trainer, and a doctor who shall remain nameless, her amazing shoes that she only wears once or twice before she deems them ‘out’ and keeps them in her enormous closet that’s larger than my apartment. And people always tell me not to be jealous, but really, not only is she rich, looks like a model, but she’s also such a sweet person – seriously. She gives money and food to the homeless on the streets, she always says please and thank you, and she always seems sincere.

Eventually Taylor found a boyfriend that stuck to her for more than 2 months, this boyfriend also proposed to her with a beautiful, huge ring from Tiffany’s, and pretty soon we were all going to Taylor’s wedding. Her wedding was not only featured in one, but two bridal magazines, an amazing fete that brought together bigwigs, celebrities, socialites, and people like me, friends of the bride and groom. Everything was white, the flowers, the fabric hanging from everything, the cake, everything was lit with candles, there were water features, a champagne fountain, sushi desert – and everything was done tastefully and chic.

The honeymooned first in Fiji, then in the South of France, for a whole month. Then the newlyweds disappeared into their huge Tudor-style mansion in the suburbs for weeks – literally. I spoke to Taylor probably 3 months after her wedding for the first time, and she was in marital bliss, as all perfect people seem to be. I almost wanted to puke at that point. And then it happened. A little trickle of unhappiness.

And as always, a trickle leads into a river, a river into a waterfall.

Taylor said she missed the city, the nightlife, and the parties. She said she missed shopping everyday, and she said she was getting a little lonely. She even took up cross-stitching, but as soon as she was done her first one, she threw everything into the fireplace so she would never be succumbed to that kind of boredom again. It was HIS mom that bought her the cross-stitch set in the first place.

She even asked me what my latest shopping spree got me – Marc Jacobs bag and Lamb shoes – which she never ever does because she’s always five steps ahead of me shopping wise, at least, before she was. Now, locked up in her suburban mansion she’s the wife that used to have a life as a single. She confessed she sometimes goes for drives aimlessly in her Porsche convertible, not knowing where she’s going, and not really trying to get away, but just looking for something, anything, interesting in this little suburban town.

Last I heard, she had remodelled her mansion and was looking for a magazine to feature it. Poor little Taylor, the richest little sad suburban socialite I’ve ever seen.