Feature: Ready for Their Close-Ups: Behind-the-Scenes With Phillys Socialites
HOW OUR SOCIAL WHIRL came to be ruled less by debutante balls and more by pimp-and-ho parties can be explained by a postmodern theory of socialites, says Bryant Simon, head of the American Studies department at Temple University. He’s not joking. The way he sees it, back in the days of Hope Montgomery Scott, cities tended to have a single media source, and Waspy, wealthy newspaper publishers dictated who was Interesting and Fabulous — people who just happened to be in the publishers’ own Waspy, wealthy circles. But our media sources have long since splintered from one to many. “An online publication that 10,000 people read a week isn’t the same as a Hearst paper that everybody used to see,” Simon explains. So there’s no longer a single conception of who our Who’s Who should be. The old-school aristocrats are still around (see: Academy Ball). They’re just not the only show in town anymore.
They’re also not the bread-and-butter of Philly Chit Chat. (Eighty-two-year-old billionairess Dodo Hamilton may throw great parties, but she’s no Dillon regular — nor, it’s safe to assume, does she long to be.) Newer media provide photo ops galore for socialites who don’t shine so brightly — or at all — in the gossip columns of the Inquirer and Daily News. “In Philadelphia,” publicist Jimmy Contreras tells me, “you can make yourself who you want to be. I mean, look at me. I’m on television. I’m in the media. If you really try here, you can be Philly-famous.”
It’s true, Simon confirms: “Traditionally, our elites were based on names — where people were born, who their parents were. But starting around the 1920s, you can trace the rise of a celebrity culture and a consumer culture, a culture where you can remake yourself by what you buy. The new social elite is often more inclusive because it’s self-made.” Where there’s a will, it seems, there’s Philly fame. In a world of modern-day Gatsbys, you only need an invite, a camera-ready smile and maybe a blogger pal or two, and you’re on your way. (Also: Money helps.)
“I can tell you, a lot of the real socialites on the Main Line and in Chestnut Hill are horrified by it all,” one longtime Philly player says of the new butterflies. “They prefer to be behind the scenes.”
But Simon notes that there have always been people famous for … just being famous. “And the more recognition they get for being out, the more they go out, to perpetuate the recognition.” And — as ever — we watch, because they’re at places we want to be: Theater openings! Private trunk shows! Movie premieres! Chase Utley events! Today, more than ever before, thanks to new media, we watch simply because we can. And maybe we also watch because we’re American, and caught in a constant tug-of-war between our fascination with nobodies who have made themselves somebodies (the national dream!) and our perverse desire to see them fail spectacularly (How dare they?). It’s the NASCAR corollary: Sure, it’s fun to see regular old human beings fly — but aren’t we really hoping to be there when they crash and burn?
