Rotating in illustrious circles where anything is always up for grabs requires degrees of charisma, a willingness to speak to people you wouldn’t normally speak to unless your survival depended on it (life is a bitch kids…) and most importantly the ability to sound believable. You should hint at all the wonderful dinner parties you go to, the head shots of you parked on PMC (don’t worry no one will ever check, well except for Tinsley Mortimer ) and the fact that you grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut– or anything else that is sure to cause some silent fawning. If you must know I grew up in a suburban hovel, with wide wide ocean views, and impeccable home cooking…and with two pet chipmunks called Fyodor and Mazeltov.
Once you have your prey in your corner, you must try to have yourself invited to more events, new dinner parties, salons, sing along sessions or whatever it is that you think will lead to some prospective financially (and hopefully amiable) patron. If you are a female- dressing on the slutty side will help, but be careful, you may end up with the wrong patron. If you are a man, especially a broke man, repeatedly extolling your knowledge of literature and the whereabouts of the Waldorf hotel should see some femme fatale gushing at the chops and convincing herself this time she has found the right catch. Baloney.
In due course, you will eventually be invited to this tete and that tete and from there you will inevitably aim to hustle charm a benevolent patron. Failing all that, and a few nasty experiences of being a kept princess or a disgruntled and disgraced lad about town ( I am so tempted to name names – but you bitches know who you are….) you will return to your hovel and remark to yourself ‘Maybe I ought to try and get a job that will keep me in check and retain my sanity, but most probably like this author you will wipe away the blood and return to the merry go round tomorrow evening.’