COUNTRY CLUBBING

Everybody hates preps. Even the preps hate each other. The only reason I can give is that they are so calculated in their actions and this makes them indigestible to their cohorts who fear of flagging and any one else who isn’t them. Preps make dating the right person a methodic science: it’s integral that they have the right friends, belong in the right neighborhood, have the right watch, play at the right club and so forth. Annoying yes, but compelling nonetheless are these spawns of plutocrats. No one has forgotten Blaine from Sixteen Candles or the raffish Colby, alien as they are today to our easygoing and democratic (or so we may think) culture, one thing remains – their pretentious, feckless style has overshadowed the musty leather of the bad boy and the rusty mullets of the punk. The crispy clean demon of the country club comes back to haunt us and our sartorial sensibilities, over and over again. And I’m really not complaining.