#palms:start

[coriknox]

cori was having a great time, surprisingly, well for her at least. she’d spent majority of the evening getting drunk and dancing with strangers. maybe it was the whole la feeling of the place, prompting her to let more loose than she might’ve otherwise, feeling like, hey nobody knows me here, except a lot of people did, but that had faded far back in her mind. — maybe also the fact that she wasn’t wearing a chainmail of a dress anymore. as she was dancing away from the makeshift dancefloor, she collided with someone else, managing to spill the remainder of her drink over herself. “ aw man.. ” she whined looking down at herself as her hands ran over the fabric of her dress, “ it’s my favorite. ” she sighed before looking up to put a face on the wall she’d collided with, a smile spreading on her lips at the sight of the familiar face, “ i should probably attempt to get it off. wanna help or just keep me company ? ” she wondered, even if it was old she’d rather not see it ruined.

[trevhanson-blog1]

His instagram live had managed to hit 700 viewers in the three minutes it took to navigate the roads that made up Hidden Palms. Finding the Halliday’s boat was easy-- drive until you hit water, look for the big ass yacht sticking out of the marina. The parking lot was already filling up, the event had promised to be big, and Trev showily parked the Merc along the dock. The sun glinted off the bright green, one of the deckhands looked over and scowled. (Had he of been paying attention, he’d of heard the word asshole whispered from a family sitting out in their more modestly sized boat.)

It was the first proper party he’d attended since arriving in the Hamptons, and he aimed to make an impact, slipping dark sunglasses onto his nose and locking his car door with a press of the key and a loud beep. Fashionably late had been his aim, but as he walked towards the ramp that lead up onto the boat, the promised jet-ski caught his eye. Not a chance, Trev thought, smoothing down the front of his shirt and walking aboard, this is Prada. He was tall, enough so to peer over the crowd and try to seek out familiar faces, but as he turned, his elbow caught against someone else’s side. “Whoops,” he said sheepishly, offering a wry smile instead of an apology. “My bad.”

[griffinvelazco]

Summer was coming to a close; as the days grew shorter and the nights lost more and more of their warmth-- the feeling of loss seemed to cling to Griffin’s shoulders and he clutched his denim jacket closer to them. It always felt as though as soon as he had shed enough of his skin to be comfortable in a season, it decided to slip through his fingers. A cigarette dwindled wedged in his hand, forgotten while he walked on the beach. His shoes bumped against his side as he walked, tucked away in the canvas tote bag that was slung onto his shoulder. He enjoyed the quiet, but not enough so that the sound of steps coming down the dune towards the beach didn’t make him lift his head, offering a smile. “I think it’s a full moon,” Griff said, taking a lazy tug from the cigarette. “Are you superstitious?” 

[bvbyvalmxnt]

            there’s a magnetic aura that slips down the girl’s shoulder like honey, nearly anyone coming within speaking distance of her falling captive of her charm. the infectious smile she wears putting helen of troy to shame, sparking a war and worthy of launching a thousand and one ships in her honor. a platter balances in the palm of her hand as she weaves herself around the party as if she’s the host - when she’s anything but. she’d been looking for some chase and instead found a tray of brightly colored fun that’s tucked into plastic shot glasses and feels the need to share it. “h'ordeuvres?” she chimes in a dramatic british accent, holding out the plate, each plastic glass holding at least six mini gummy bears - infused with vodka. her hand waves it slightly in front of them before pulling her hand back slightly, lips coiling into a smirk “-before you take one or before you politely decline, riddle me this - do men who don’t go down on women deserve to have rights? i’m leaning towards no, but i can’t show up to class in september with only one opinion.”

[kelseymartin]

Showing up without a date had earned her a stern look from the infamously stuck up Mrs. Doherty, but it had suited Kelsey well enough as she walked through the event. Already, she’d secured a drink and at least three compliments on her bold choice of attire— a particularly geriatric looking old man had even called used the word striking, and was now seeking out company. It was still early in the night and most people worth talking to were still nestled in their couples, an irritating fact but she did her rounds, wiggling her fingers at faces she recognized and whispering about those she did not. It wasn’t until she’d gotten her third glass of champagne that she found someone alone, peering into the fountain that lay in the middle of the garden. Nude pumps clicked along the patio stones until she found her way by their side, glancing down into the water and the fish that darted within it. She grinned, peeking beside her. “I’ve got a penny, if you want to make a wish.”

[nadiateymouri]

Nadia had changed into a little shift dress, it was the colour of a blue jewel and embroidered with constellations. It wasn’t particularly her style, but Lee had insisted that the long stretch of her bare legs was worth it. She tottered in with heels that were dangerously too tall, clutching a tiny bag that held only her phone, cigarettes and lipstick. This was the event that was supposed to be easier than the first; but still she trembled with anxiety— there was an intimacy to large parties, Gatsby had been right, even though her entrance had been one where she felt nearly invisible, Nadia knew that once eyes met her she’d be cornered.  Still, she felt the press to be social and moved towards a face that she recognized from the Palms. “Hi,” she managed, “Do you know where the bar is?”

[rcwanfitz]

        she’d spent the majority of her day out in the greenhouse of the floral shop, rearranging the flowers and cleaning up the aisles. it was a sticky day in august that called for an iced cold lemonade after her shift. there’s a small daisy that sits behind her ear, one that she’d forgotten she’d place there, her eyes glued on the menu above the baristas as she waits next in line for her turn. a grande blueberry black tea lemonade she finds herself repeating over and over in her head until a voice prompts her out of her thoughts and her feet are taking her to the till. she says the order, an uh still tucked between her words, despite the practice and one gets tossed in before she gives her name - as if she’s unsure her name even is rowan - or as her parent’s have named her um-rowan. the thoughts are quickly shaken aside as a grin overtakes her features as the barista tells her the person in front of her has already paid for her order. pay it forward - she loved the idea of it, as she chances a look behind her to make sure someone’s in line waiting, she pulls out a twenty dollar bill from her pocket, handing it to the barista, “can i um, pay for the person behind me? and however many that pays for as well?” she steps aside, waiting for her drink wishing the person who had paid for her drink was still there so she could thank them. instead, she fiddles with the wrapper of the straw as she waits for her lemonade. 

[jacferris]

The market closest to her boss’ eight bedroom colonial monstrosity was a small, family run affair. Jac always liked coming to this particular one, with it’s cramped aisles and limited selection, it reminded her of how things were back home— smaller, but personal. The bell that chimed at the push of the front door would cause the father who ran the cash register to look up, smile at her like they were old friends, and greet her by her name. The kids who stocked the shelves would sneak glances at her shyly. The lighting overhead was fluorescent, and flickered every few minutes. The business relied on the summer birds, and she knew they only tried so hard because in a few short weeks the streets would empty out and the houses that faced the ocean would become quiet once more. The locals would drive out to the bigger box stores in search of better bargains and this place would close up again and wait for summer to come.

Waving goodbye to the owner, she left with a plastic bag in hand, containing all the fixings to make a mean mojito. She’d bought a bottle of rum earlier and had a half cracked idea of making her own cocktails, a venture she’d likely give up on if her first try came out terrible. As Jac fumbled with the keys to the company car she was being lent for the summer, she shoved a stubborn lock of dark hair that had fallen forward back behind her ear, losing grip of the bag. The half dozen limes she’d bought (overkill probably, but one can never be too careful) rolled across the lot, a few stopping right before another car just shifting into park. As the owner stepped out, Jac motioned at the ground as she stooped to toss her belongings back into the bag. “You gotta watch your step, some idiot made a giant mess.”

[kas-ottenheimer]

Even in late July, the Atlantic was a steely, cold blue, surging against the stern of the yacht with waves that were less gentle than they looked. Kas leaned forward with his elbows on the railing, taking a deep pull from his freshly-lit cigarette. He let the first stream of smoke unspool something from inside of him- a very subtle tension, hardly detectable except for the tightness currently residing between his shoulderblades. Most of the party had been spent navigating the crowded decks of Halliday’s yacht, fielding greetings and questions and making introductions on Ari’s behalf- who simply trailed behind him, offering little more than the occasional gruff hey, looking thoroughly unenthused. They’d seen Trevor, chatting cheerfully at the bar, and Lee, catching up with some old New York City classmates, and eventually he’d lost track of all three of them, which left him on his own. On the upper deck, he’d downed a beer with some guys he’d gone to high school with; more or less, all their questions boiled down to the same thing, so it was easy to recycle the same few-word summaries. Yeah, I know, it’s been a while. LA’s great. Nothing beats the weather. The traffic’s shit, but the rest makes up for it. An easy-enough conversation, guided by a script he’d come prepared with. Still, it proved taxing.

 This smoking spot he’d picked wasn’t empty- at this point, no part of this boat could possibly be empty- but it was a place most people didn’t choose to linger, adjacent to the doorway where harried stewardesses continuously appeared, padding barefoot over the deck with tinkling trays of champagne. He stayed out of their way, smoking in silence, looking out at where sunlight hit the water like shattered glass. And when he finished this first cigarette (there’d be more before he felt willing to re-enter the fray and find his friends), he almost dropped it into the churning foam before thinking better of it. No reason to poison some unsuspecting fish or gull when there was already enough crap in the ocean. Instead, Kas let the butt fall into a half-empty glass of champagne that had seemed abandoned, until a hand suddenly went reaching for it. Quick to react, Kas got there first.  

“Shit, sorry, don’t drink that- I thought someone left it out. I’ll get you a fresh one.”

[cleofox-blog1]

After a few hours, the blue of the summer afternoon slips into a precious dusky pink, heralding evening’s arrival. Cleo’s spent most of her day on the beach, drinking in sunlight and champagne in equal measure, and calmly riding out her own private high from escaping the city. Under the dimmer light of early evening, her eye catches the sight of something glinting in the sands, and she deserts her precious spot on the beach without haste. Some might argue the whole movement is rather reckless, but Cleo thinks there’s an art in ephemerality, a certain romance in the sight of a deserted beach towel billowing for escape as its owner runs off in pursuit of beauty.

The waves pick up a bit, and she runs towards the unknown, shiny thing, all in the hopes of saving it before the ocean calls it back, uncaring if it’s a pearl or a piece of trash. Her eyes misjudge the depth of her footing and she trips, rolling in the sand and sending the glittering object back into the waves. It’s an arrival full of wholehearted unintended aplomb, and she can’t help but laugh in the wake of the mess she’s made, stopping only at the impression of a shadow. She rotates herself, resting her elbows on the sand and her head in her hands, to explain, “I was taught you couldn’t let a shiny thing pass you by. It might bring you luck.”

[brvdgetcollins]

bridget roamed the aisles of the drugstore, basket hitched in the crook of her elbow as she tossed in items she needed and some that she didn’t. a pack of cigarettes. a jet black eyeliner pencil. a pack of bubblegum (and another she threw in her quilted chanel backpack just for the thrill of it) were among the pile. she needed to blow off steam after a rather painful family dinner. her sister had just arrived in the hamptons and things were tense to say the least, so she decided on a little retail therapy. while she normally would’ve gone to the mall for this sort of thing, this place was the only thing open this late, so she took what she could get. as she entered the alcohol aisle, her fingers ran over the various bottles. chipped black nail polish apparent on her fingernails as she reached for one, her head turned to find a familiar face. “didn’t realize cvs was the new hot place to hangout on a thursday night. already making this my regular spot as we speak.” a smirk fell at her lips as her sarcastic nonsense continued. “what do you think it is? the fluorescent lighting or the rack of bedazzled hamptons merch? probably the latter, because that lime green tie-dye hoodie is really calling my name over there.”

[suededvherty-blog]

the entirety of the gala had left a gross taste in her mouth ── she tried not to lap at it with her tongue as they pressed into the inside of her cheeks and tasted of her mother’s neurotic attitude the entire evening and the idea that the entire charade all taken place at their summer estate was some sort of act towards charity. she wanted to blame it on just that, how gruelingly tantalizing it was to scarf down four courses of meals while the raised money from the art went towards something as charitable as ‘world hunger,’ but other parts of her knew it was not just that that had led her towards the nearest flute of champagne so she could down it. she had collected herself and shifted into a white mini dress for the after party, equipped with a pair of white sneakers because she knew she’d grow tired of the heels. in clouds of mint vape and tobacco streams, there were very few times that suede doherty truly wanted to partake in it, more accustomed towards liquid dreams and mixed martinis ── but tonight was an exception. “would you happen to have a cigarette?” her voice piped up towards the most familiar face. smoking: it was a horrible habit to accumulate, and she knew it, but her nerves itched for it. “i’ve got─” her manicured fingers fished through the inner contents of her fendi purse, finding a pair of sunglasses, a few random receipts, a lipgloss, “─an old movie ticket and a buy one get one free coffee coupon i can trade.” 

[trevhanson-blog1]

This was his element. Trevor had slipped out of the suit that he’d worn for the gala and was now in something a little more comfortable— or rather, something that suited him a little more. A silk shirt careened down his shoulders, half buttoned and in an obnoxious pattern, his jeans were black and skinny. He kept the sneakers on from the event, the whole look ending with the sharp cut of red that made up the back of them. Already he weaved through the party, greeting those that he knew, (the Gerbers had made it and he gave them both a hug— despite the fact that Presley was a prick, Willow Barrett had managed to scrape together the money for an Uber and he’d brought a handful of Belgian boys from his management as well) and introducing himself to those that he did not. Trev cradled a glass in hand, the cocktail had a fun name, Rodeo Drive 75, and he sipped it as he picked his way through the backyard. This time, he’d brought his juul and its presence burned a hole in his back pocket, just begging to be used. Finding a spot, he sat on a lounge chair, glancing over at his neighbour for a moment. “You mind if I vape?”

[griffinvelazco]

Griffin supposed that he’d never be used to events like these. His date had disappeared— likely in pursuit of a drink, leaving him to fend for himself as he stood by a garden bed. In ten minutes, he’d managed to make himself look awfully interested in the complexity of the autumn roses that were planted there, ignoring the curious glances that he was awarded by those who passed him by. Most of the Hamptons regulars didn’t know who he was and he was comfortable with that, their assumption that he was the date of someone more illustrious, but as more time ebbed— he found himself ripping away from the garden to head inside, where there were more people.

He kept his head down, fussing with a stray curl that had sprung back from the precarious pulled back look he’d attempted before leaving the house. Griffin had almost made it up the steps when something shiny careening towards the ground caught his eye. An earring? A cufflink? He reached down to scoop it up, tapping at the shoulder of the person one step above him. “Hey, sorry,” he said, holding out his palm to show off what he’d found, “I think you dropped this?”

[dakotafvller]

despite the strict conduct and high class society that deemed itself better than her and anyone like her, dakota had maintained a highly audacious and rowdy spirit throughout the evening ── maybe it was the flukes of champagne that she had precariously downed one, two, three too many or the porcelain lines she had snorted in the bathroom. in larger parties like this, everybody seemed to fade into each other and sort of disappear in the crowd, unless one really stood out ── the blonde held herself in a way that constantly put herself on display, so the change in atmosphere and dress code that had her in a metallic blue backless silk dress was no reason for her to buckle down and behave. besides, girls like her were the ones who ought to have fun, who were tempted far too easily by the possibility of danger and the thrill of adrenaline, the type that needed some sort of excitement in their life. she had teetered momentarily as she shifted with the strap of her heel inside amongst the crowd of the gala, undoing it before plucking off her other heel, parading them around as if they were a trophy──they were designer── before she led herself down the marble steps and into the backyard villa-like grounds, adorned with the nicest fountain she had ever seen. her blue eyes gleamed in the reflection of the water before she could feel another’s gaze on her, her curled blonde locks falling past her face as she lifted her head to meet theirs. “i think we should go swimming in here. what’s a grand party like this without a mermaid, right?” 

[kelseymartin]

Escaping the sticky summer heat from the city was always welcome, Kels walked through the party with a smile fixed upon her face, glad to have the breeze rolling from the ocean to pick up the pink ends of her hair. In her hand she cradled a half-empty bottle of Ciroc, bringing it to her lips every few moments to take a sip. Light eyes scanned the party and it’s occupants, lifting her chin at those she recognized, peering curiously at those whom she didn’t. She loved the Hamptons, and the people who came there; terrible and beautiful, interesting and vapid as they all were. Long legs stopped at an occupied adirondack chair and after smoothing out the crisp fabric of her skirt, she settled down on the arm. “Mind if I sit?” Lazily, the blonde tipped the bottle in her new companion’s direction. “I’ll even share.”