BONFIRE of THE VANITIES

Kevin Kwan, author of Crazy Rich Asians

The crowd was so chic, I immediately felt underdressed in my jeans and blazer. I was used to art-school parties downtown where everyone had paint splattered on them. But this was an uptown, jet-set crowd. There was a woman in head-to-toe vintage Pucci, and a girl who looked like a young Catherine Deneuve wearing an Hermès scarf tied as a turban. I was 21 and had just moved to New York from Texas to study photography at Parsons School of Design. A friend had invited me to a party being thrown by someone she’d gone to school with. I was very excited since this woman – an heiress – had a reputation that preceded her. I didn’t know the particular etiquette of this entitled crowd, but I was raised never to arrive at a party empty-handed, so I took a bottle of wine and a gift. Of course, I was the only one to take anything, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. My gifts were whisked away by a staff member and never seen again.

It was a penthouse apartment in one of Manhattan’s best buildings and so vast that, when you entered the front door, you couldn’t even see where the room ended. It felt like I was stepping into the pages of a Dominick Dunne novel, everyone giving double-cheeked kisses and speaking French and Italian. When the hostess’ mother turned up wearing a full-length champagne chinchilla coat and dripping with diamonds it was like the Queen of Versailles had arrived.

I observed the impossibly beautiful guests, thinking, Where have these people come from? What’s their story? So I dove in and began chatting. I told the Hermès-turbaned girl I was studying photography, and she responded by saying she’d just bought an original CartierBresson. There were a few iconic grande dames in attendance who were fixtures of the New York party crowd. One legendary lady in her 80s told everyone how she once smuggled drugs into the country.

I didn’t get much chance to speak to my friend who’d invited me, but I noticed she seemed to be doing a lot of the party managing. She was ducking into the kitchen, making sure food and drinks were both flowing, and I even saw her clearing plates.

The party ended at around 3am. I went home, so buzzed and happy. My flatmates were waiting up, excited to hear about my evening, so I gave them the whole download. But the big ‘aha’ moment came a few days later when my friend revealed what was really going on.

The heiress was flat broke. She had somehow squandered her inheritance and was reduced to borrowing money from my friend, who had funded the whole event. Here was this supposed millionaire, surrounded by her glamorous ‘friends’, who had no idea what was really going on. It was all about desperately keeping up appearances. This party turned out to be something of an awakening for me – it was the first time that I saw beyond the fantasy, beyond the gloss, and realised that very often things are not at all what they seem.

I saw beyond the gloss, and realised that VERY OFTEN things are not at all what they seem”