THE SCENE Like any The Real Housewives of New York City fan worth the salt on her Skinnygirl Margarita, I have a bit of an obsession with the Hamptons. I live for Ramona’s volcanic dinner parties (and questionable design choices), Luann’s out-of-touch pizza order (“Mrs. de Lesseps… The Countess!”), Sonja’s kooky jitney bathroom rituals, Bethenny’s avoidance of guests at her own home, high-stakes brunch battles and, of course, Barbara’s clambake, complete with doggie bags full of lobsters. Alas, I am but a desert girl in an average tax bracket, so I figured my Hamptons enjoyment would remain vicarious unless I somehow befriended a celeb –...
