The Social Climber's Bible: A Book of Manners, Practical Tips, and Spiritual Advice forthe Upwardly Mobile (24 page)

Soon, you will be getting paid to make sure your Whales, Big Fish, rap stars, supermodels, professional athletes, and fashionista friends show up at the opening of every new nightclub, restaurant, and hot spot in town. It won’t be long before you will own a percentage of one or more of these establishments. Fashion
designers will give you free clothes to wear. You will get paid to be the nonmodel model hipster in Gap ads that mention you are a conceptual artist. Brands of vodka and tequila that come in bottles that look like Mayan artifacts will put you on a retainer to serve only their intoxicants and to always be photographed with a Mayan bottle at your lips. You are now not just a person who’s officially cool, you’re a celebrity brand.

Because by this time several months will have passed and your nonexistent conceptual art show in Helsinki will be approaching, it is time for you to have the PR firm that now manages your ever-expanding popularity issue a press release. It will state that as a conceptual artist you realized that the whole notion of a museum exhibition of your work is an outmoded nineteenth-century concept, and you’ve decided the only way you can stay true to your artistic sensibilities is to do something that is both new, socially conscious, and profit-making. Announce that you are opening up your own nightclub. And because you are environmentally as well as socially aware, it will be entirely green in its construction and libations, a place where like-minded people can talk about ways to make the world a better place—a chain of emporiums of good vibes and love, the flagship of which will be built in Las Vegas and named after yourself.

Not only is all of the above within a scenester’s grasp, stay friends with the junior Whales that first allowed you to get your foot in the door, past the doorman, and up the ladder, and ten, twenty years down the line, when you’re no longer hip or young, and are most likely fat and balding but very, very rich, with
spoiled spawn of your own, you can go to those now middle-aged Whales, reminisce about how you got them into their first nightclub, and they’ll agree to write your child a well-deserved letter of recommendation to get him or her into the right nursery school.

O
ne of the greatest things about social climbing is that there’s no mandatory retirement age. You can do it until the day you die. If you are sixty-five-plus and are just starting to climb, don’t kick yourself for all those decades you spent hiding in the closet, ashamed of your upwardly mobile urges—get out there and start making the kinds of friends you’ve always wanted and deserved. If you’ve spent your life raising a family, tell them they’re on their own. It’s time for Grandma/Grandpa to look out for Grandma/Grandpa.

For those seniors who have been Mountaineering their whole lives and fear that they’ve reached their peak, know that if you follow the tips in this chapter, your best years of climbing will still be ahead of you.

The golden years offer Mountaineers opportunities that weren’t open to them when they were twenty-five. Admittedly, scenester social climbing might be challenging for those over sixty-five, but for those upwardly mobile seniors blessed with a great plastic surgeon, a state-of-the-art hearing aid, and a divorce settlement from an extremely wealthy ex-spouse, nothing is impossible; we say go for it. For inspiration, check out forever-young septuagenarian Jocelyn Wildenstein, ex-wife of Alec Wildenstein, billionaire French businessman, art dealer, and racehorse owner. Yes, her face now looks as if it belongs to a cat, but she definitely doesn’t look seventy-four.

Even if you have kept your own face, the rules have changed since you started climbing; the old guard hasn’t just let down their guard, they’re dying off. Ladders you were prohibited from climbing in your youth are now open to you. Best of all, the senior social climber who is only now returning to the circuit will be happy to discover that a great many of the snobs who snubbed you or deliberately prevented you from feeling comfortable reaching for the higher rungs of the ladder are now too infirm or senile to bust you for embellishing your past with accomplishments, famous friends you never had, etc.

In other words, no matter what your station in life, at this moment, you will have a much-deserved, ever-increasing freedom to become new best friends with a whole new class of Big Fish. All you have to do is turn off the TV, get off the couch, put in your dentures, and start sucking up to the right people.

While the rest of your generation is retiring, it’s time for you to get to work. Demographics, median income, and the appeal of warm winter weather will naturally lead many of you to the gilded retirement enclaves of Florida’s Gold Coast, Palm Beach, or better yet, Hobe Sound, where the notoriously strict dress codes were written to make every woman on the island look over sixty. According to local legend, if a young woman wore a dress that was deemed too revealing, a black sweater would be left on her porch indicating she was no longer welcome at the club. Others of you may prefer those gated desert oases of golf, yoga, and spa fun—Taos, Palm Springs, etc. Whether you’re flying off to warmer climes for the first time or already have a toehold in a community populated by oldie Big Fish, know this: They need you more than you need them. Old Big Fish have to lower their standards if they want to hang out with people who are still living, which means that as long as you are not hooked up to a respirator, you can still be the life of the party.

Admittedly, the upwardly mobile woman of sixty-five-plus will be somewhat less popular than the senior male of the species. But Mountaineers of either sex who have the imagination to keep up both sides of the conversation while they push the wheelchair of a senior Big Fish who’s recovering from a stroke can become best friends with the person who snubbed them forty years ago.

If you’re a member of the AARP set and just starting to climb, the same advice we gave the young social climber back in
Chapter 1
applies to you. Start by standing in front of the mirror and appraising your assets. Because we don’t want you to be shocked, do not take off all your clothes; underwear will suffice.

If that doesn’t cheer you up, remember, our mantra applies every bit as much to you as it does to the twenty-year-old who’s reading this book:

I CARE ENOUGH ABOUT ME NOT TO BELIEVE
ANYTHING THEY SAY ABOUT ME IS TRUE IF I DON’T WANT IT TO BE. I WILL NOT BE JUDGED.

For those of who are still depressed by what you see in the mirror and want to think about investing in plastic surgery before you start climbing, we suggest you put your clothes back on and consider the following. Contrary to what one might assume, our research shows that for the senior female Mountaineer, looking younger doesn’t make you climb faster. In fact, new breasts and body-lifts can work to your detriment. Why? Because if you are as wrinkled as a white raisin, the Big Fish widow who has had so many lifts her face now resembles a raw chicken shrouded in cling wrap won’t see you as competition.

If you look natural, i.e., your actual age, she will think she looks better in comparison, and will be more likely to invite you to stay with her for extended periods of time. She’ll fly you south, give you your own guest cottage on her estate, and insist you tag along to parties and galas to make it less obvious that she is trolling for her third, fourth, or fifth husband.

The shrewd, mature female Mountaineer knows that by looking and acting her actual age, she will be far less likely to be labeled as a social climber. Let your hair go gray, take up yoga, and most important, profess a deep belief in reincarnation. Aging Big Fish are cheered by the possibility they will come back as a Whale.

If you have your own fears about mortality, keep them to yourself. Instead of debating what hymn you want played at your funeral or angling to get a plot in a restricted cemetery, cheer yourself and everyone else up with a few wild stories about affairs
you never had in your twenties with the likes of John Lennon, Norman Mailer, or Wilt Chamberlain. Older male Big Fish will be fighting to have you as their dinner partner if you can talk dirty about the dead. If asked by someone who has known you for forty years why you never revealed these triple-X-rated celebrity liaisons before, simply smile and say that your late husband was an extremely jealous man. Because rheumatoid arthritis and artificial joints make it harder for old people to do dirty things, they appreciate hearing about them. Remember, the greatest of all the great things about senior social climbing is that senility gives you an excuse for any and all social blunders you may make—be bold, reckless, but don’t break a hip.

The rules are different for the male Mountaineer over sixty. For you the climb is more of a beauty contest. As such, those older male readers who could benefit from a tummy tuck, liposuction, or breast reduction should consider surgically lightening their load before beginning their ascent. Yes, it will be painful, but think of the thrill of victory you will experience when the widow of that Big Fish who blackballed you from the golf club or made you feel like a loser for not getting into Harvard fifty years ago invites you to borrow her dead Big Fish husband’s golf clubs, or better yet, invites you to lie down in his bed for a “nap.”

The same basic rules we laid out for the young social climber—flattery will get you everywhere, the importance of being a great guest, etc.—all apply to older Mountaineers, except when it comes to sex. Let’s be honest, if you’re over sixty, you’re no longer playing the long game. If you’ve still got it in you,
now
is the time to sleep your way to the top! Even if you can’t actually have sex.

Worried you aren’t what you used to be in the sack? Even if the sex is less than satisfactory, one or both of you will be so relieved that you were actually able to have sex that it won’t seem unsatisfactory. And in the unlikely event that the sex is actually great for the Big Fish, she, unlike the younger version of herself, won’t be able to do it again and again and again. Cut your Viagra with Celebrex and you will be in and out of the sack and back on the golf course or at the bridge table at her club in no time, freeing you up to network into the hearts of her even bigger old Big Fish friends.

If you are escorting a widow, do not try to compete with the dead. Speak well of the widow’s ex, even if she herself trashes her late spouse, and it will make you seem like a bigger person than you are. If the Big Fish widow is still grieving and starts to cry at the mention of her lost loved one, wrap your arms around her and comfort her with a hug. Do not use this moment of bereavement to immediately stick your tongue down her throat. Instead, think of something sad—your dog dying when you were twelve, or the alimony you’re paying your wife—something that will help you squeeze out a few genuine tears of your own. Whisper, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” let her have a good cry, and then cop a cheap feel.

The same advice we gave young social climbers applies to you regarding the opportunities to be gained by attending memorial services, AA meetings, art gallery openings, etc. But you should also take advantage of those opportunities for making
new best friends that are only open to the AARP set. Linger in your cardiologist’s waiting room and strike up a conversation with the septuagenarian who has a new pacemaker and a winter home in Palm Beach. Loiter on the wheelchair ramp at the poshest physical rehabilitation facility in your town and chat up the hot old Big Fish babe with the walker. Remember, it’s easier to use the Velcro-Climber technique with someone who can’t walk, much less run, away from you.

You can make the difference in the quality of their final years—and yours. Convincing them that instead of selling their beach house or second, third, or fourth home and giving that money to their greedy children, they should get another season’s worth of fun out of it and invite you to spend the summer or winter with them. Even if your new best decrepit Big Fish friend passes on before the season’s over, sad as you feel, there’s always the chance you’ll find out that your old pal showed his or her appreciation for your loyal friendship by leaving that beach house to you.