For months now, my steady assault on the social world had provided me a healthy diet of Krug and canapés.
Not this time.
“We’re giving you a book report,” said my editor. That sounded suspiciously like work.
“You won’t make it any further in society until you know what it is, where it comes from,” he said. “You’ll just hit a wall. Having no idea what you’re doing is charming, but only to a point.”
So instead of dressing up and going to parties, my mission was to find out everything I could about the history of New York’s upper crust.
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