There was a cliff overlooking the Pacific to my back; an Aston Martin to my right; the tropical explosion of plants weaving in front of the hotel to my left; and a bellhop who looked like he could have been on the cover of GQ standing directly ahead. I was in heaven. More than just heaven- I had made it to a Four Seasons resort at the ripe old age of 20. Things could definitely have been worse.
To give you guys some context- the closest 99% of America will get to a Four Seasons resort is reading about the drama that unfolds inside of them in People magazine or on E! News. As Kieran and I snuggled into our massive beds during our first night there, we turned on "The Fabulous Life of Kim and Kanye," only to see them prancing around the very same resort we were staying in. Sean from the Bachelor and his fiance Catherine had just gotten married there the month before. This was not just luxury- it was the elite.
Which brings us to our next point- why the hell were Kieran and I there? GREAT question.
We live a nice life- yes. But Four Seasons nice? Jokes. It turns out our mom is a baller and got asked to judge one of the more prestigious advertising award shows in the world. To lure her into judging, they put her up in the 5 star resort even though all she was going to see of it was the board room and her bedroom at the end of the 13 hour work day when all she wanted to do was pass out. It coincided with our spring break, so naturally we invited ourselves along to take advantage of the amenities while our mother was locked in a room staring longingly out to the Pacific. We are sweet, supportive children.
As is only natural, I am now writing a blog post to update you on my experience mingling with the top .01%. Here goes:
Day 1: I attempted to wear a crop top and cutoff shorts to breakfast and was promptly chastised by my mother. I discovered crop tops in Australia, and am now rarely seen in full length shirts when the weather permits me to wear half-sized ones. The way I see it I'm saving resources or maybe child labor in Taiwan by cutting down on my fabric consumption. However, Liz wasn't having it, so I resorted to her side of the closet for a tolerable outfit.
Thirty minutes later I was thanking God Liz decided to be fussy that morning because I was staring down at my second plate piled high with food from the literal most amazing breakfast buffet I had ever been to. The 6 ft tall anorexic blonde models floating through the lobby with their lattes in hand and food nowhere to be seen did not deter me as my gaze fixated on the omelet bar and stack of baked goods next to it.
On the occasions in which I indulge, I usually find myself going on feminist rants about how ludicrous these skinny female ideals are. I will proceed to spend the next 2 days eating only fruits and vegetables (okay fine, and froyo) as punishment until I feel skinny enough to indulge and feminist rant again. It is my life-cycle, and being around real live stick figures definitely wasn't making me any more sane.
Day 2: I was sitting by the pool annoyed that there is no GQ model pool boy. What is the point of having this amazing pool if the real housewives who stay here can't come down and seduce the pool boy? Isn't that how it works?
Then I remembered that I probably gained 5 pounds since yesterday, so its for the best that it is just me and Carla the pool girl. Meanwhile, Kieran was literally salivating at some thirty-year-old trying to look like a twenty-year-old who had just walked in. I counted 4 different features on her face alone that were purchased as opposed to God-given, however my tirade about his lack of standards only seemed to please him. I'm pretty sure this is what she will look like in 20 years, in fact this may be her mother:
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| Kieran's girlfriend |
Day 3: Roaming around the resort I realized, if we were all purses, I would be one of those fake Louis Vuitton's you buy from the stands on the streets of NY from some screaming immigrant. I was the fake purse trying to blend in with the custom-made, you just waited on a 5 year long waiting list to get this bag, type of purses.
I would walk down the hallways on the way to the pool or the spa with the staff deferentially asking me if I needed anything while the other guests nodded in my direction. Don't they realize I am nobody? I'm from North Carolina for God's sake. Tell someone here that, and they'd assume my family was some kind of hog-farming royalty.
Sometimes I'd find myself imagining the horrified look that would cross everyone's faces if I told that I didn't even have a trust fund. Now that I'm reflecting on these thoughts though, I do wish I had informed some of the ritzier people around me- maybe they would have taken pity on me and simply given me one. Their charitable act for 2014.
It had been three days since I had last seen a Toyota or a Honda, which must have been some kind of world record. My dream car, which is a Black G-wagon, was no longer impressive. It was the equivalent of a Camry. Yet I had to keep reminding myself- you are the fake Louis Vuitton. The fact that you just cringed at the person getting out of the 3-series BMW and took pity on them for being poor is hilarious because you have to fly home in three days and stare at both a Nissan and a Honda in your driveway- HA! Whose the poor one now?!
Last day: I was at the pool watching three little boys running around- each with their own personal nanny even though they were siblings. At first I was jealous- I had always dreamed of being an only child with Liz and John devoting their very souls to me, but instead I was splitting time with the two red-heads they figured were necessary additions. So a private nanny was the next best thing they could have, but didn't, give me.
The boys and their nannies (all Asian sisters nannying for the 3 brothers) were playing next to a different set of children whose staff consisted of one manny (man-nanny) and a french-speaking elderly nanny, so that they were being yelled at in every language.
All of the nannies hit it off when they figured out that their families lived just a couple of streets away from each other in South Hampton. I saw a friendly conversation turn into a faux-smiling, "the family I babysit for is richer than yours, but how do I impress this upon you without just saying it" type of conversation. The first set of nannies quickly made sure to inform the other set that their family had a place on the upper East side in Manhattan as well. If my life was devoted to entertaining a two year old in a Castle everyday, maybe I'd try to out-rich the other nannies as well.
Coincidentally, the other family had a second place on the upper west-side in Manhattan. (Such a small world!) And both families were out in California considering third properties. Everyone deflated a little bit when they realized this was ending in a tie- who was richer would remain a mystery.
As the blonde-haired, fair-skinned, never had a fry in her life, mother of the first family came out and barely acknowledged her children (I guess buying a nanny for each of them is a better way to give them attention), there was one half of one second where I decided I was more than glad not to be one of those children in one of those families.
But then I pictured the Porsches the three little brats would be receiving for their 16th birthdays (such a nice starter car!) and I got over it pretty quickly. I think the fact that the thought crossed my mind at all shows my moral compass shining through deep down in there somewhere.
In the meantime, I'm back in CH biding my time until I go to Vegas for my 21st (March 20th people- buy me presents). So until then, hope you enjoy.
-F
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