For example, West tells us that Vanessa Getty might sort of, kind of not get along well with her mother-in-law, Ann, because Ann wanted to host some party for her but was refused, or some ridiculous shit like that. Another is that writer Robert Mailer Anderson is now a part of S.F. society who knew? So does that mean if he, say, bounces a rent check from spending his money on absinthe and taxi dancers in fits of writerly bohemia, he can ask the flock for a loan? Because I would. Monthly.
Another shocker is the notion that Trevor Traina in addition to resisting the urge to gouge out Vanessa Getty's eyes, arranging seating charts for Diane von Furstenberg dinner parties, and harboring a love of long and luscious drapery might be a Republican. Stunning, because I thought most of them were.
Meanwhile, Danielle Steel, the Bechtels, and the Schwabs have more or less removed themselves from society's constantly shifting strata of popularity and Gettyness something I didn't know was possible.
About their sovereignty, the members of this crowd seem to be in a Vicodin haze. Many of their anonymous friends and "society observers" drop delusional tidbits like "Trevor and Alexis are going to rule this city" and "[Sloan Barnett] could be the next first lady of San Francisco." Such statements would make anyone outside this small, familylike enclave scratch his head. We suspect that even those on the inside were forced to reach for their jewel-encrusted puke buckets.