Earlier this month, J and I went to a book party in Beverly Hills, at the Ralph Lauren store on Rodeo. As the Lauren employees politely cringed, a select but completely uncohesive -- and therefore uncharacteristic -- group of Angelenos and visitors nibbled snacks and drank champagne. Too much, in my case, but that was a story for the next day.
The book, The Manny, is a supposed must-read for this summer, especially on the beaches of the Hamptons (so we're exempt in L.A. Yay!). I read the book so you won't have to, and wrote up both the tony reception (Dominick Dunne! Downtown Julie Brown!) and the interminable and ill-written volume.
Just for once, I'd like one of these socialites with literary pretensions to write a work of literary fiction instead of, er, that crap they write.
Or maybe not.
Read my review here on LAist.
Photo from Holly Peterson's MySpace page.
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