For me, this logo will always be an image of the elite and the wealthy. This is a theater camp I worked at one summer, and it was there that I truly learned what the upper class was like. The Hamptons always felt like the summer get-away for all those upper class New Yorkers.
I got this job through my AP English teacher, a man I trusted and adored, and I figured he would never steer me wrong. Oh, what a fool I was. Although I lived my whole life on Long Island, I grew up in Mastic and due to the distance, I had never actually been to Westhampton. When I first visited, I was smitten with the clothing boutiques, the trendy cafes, and beautiful buildings. And then I went to work, and realized how loathsome some of these rich folks really were.
The children I was in charge of ranged from age four to fifteen (being that I was only seventeen at the time, it was very difficult to maintain any amount of control over the older ones) and they were the biggest group of spoiled snotrags I will ever have the misfortune to meet. I was a complete outsider in my non-designer khakis, shoes from famous footwear and work-polo. The older ones especially treated me with distaste, they couldn’t quite understand why a young woman would have to (gasp) work for spending money. The idea was as foreign to them as the word “no”. So, day in and day out, I would listen to them discuss how they were taking the yacht out this weekend or about some marvelous vacation they were about to go on… and then they would of course sneer at me with disgust because I dared to tell them to be quiet and get on stage.
But worse than the over-privileged children (oh, so much worse), were the parents. I spoke with these parents quite frequently as I was in charge of checking the children in and out of the camp each day. Everyday these woman would waddle up to me with their ridiculously oversized Coach handbags, Gucci sunglasses and the perpetual cup of coffee and lecture me on what an absolute doll their children were, how they were just born to be stars. Then they would inform me that they really had to dash because if they didn’t then their kid would be late to piano, karate, swimming, vocal lessons, dance lessons, wood carving lessons, and whatever else they could possibly find to fill their child’s day with so that they wouldn’t actually have to spend any time with their kids. Because once the night came, in came the babysitter while the parents went out and drank white wine spritzers.
Growing up, I didn’t have a boat, I didn’t wear designer clothing, and I certainly didn’t own a beach house. But working in the Hamptons, I realized how much I loved my middle class life. While I might not have been able to go on luxurious vacations every summer, my mom was always there to tuck me in at night. So really, who needs to be Upper Class, or rather…who wants to be?
