Why, it's the Constance Billard choir, singing "Santa Baby" in skimpy-yet-wintry outfits, performing the half-hunched, half-slutty scoliotic movements that serve as their goblinesque choreography. I never noticed how very flossy are the lyrics of this song! When requesting favors or material gifts, I was told by my mother and my father's mother before her, one must never appear to behave in an overfamiliar manner! "Santa baby" indeed!
GG points out that, Upper East Side-wise, one of the signs of the season -- beyond the pandering to and solicitation of the Jolly Red Christian God of Commerce while dressed as a sexy Christmas stocking -- is the Constance Billard/St. Jude's Bazaar, "where the only thing bizarre are the donated items for sale." Beyond Nate's ass and everybody else's sovereign sense of self, Gossip Girl, what on earth do you mean? Well, there's an antique butter churn, for example, which Serena notes would go well with her beloved loom. She picks up a big furry Cossack hat and plops it on Dan's head, making him even more beaver-like than usual, and he slides past Siberia on the way to Talking About Climate Change. Serena scoffs, like any good scion of the moneyed elite, and calls him the Global Warming Grinch, but he's on a roll: "I'm just saying, Christmas should be white and snowy. I'd even settle for Manhattan slush." Sounds delicious! Scotch, bitters, a pair of Roger Viviers and a copy of The Ethical Slut, toss in some gold flakes, shake violently, and serve, while shouting. Shouting? Who's shouting? Um, the quickly approaching Vanessa Effing Abrams, both from her mouth and her crazy wild snake-filled half-dreaded hair. Security! Pretentious invasion of the bitterly vanishing middle class! Front gate! Security!
...Too late. You may ask yourself, given that these children attend classes and bizarre Bazaars whenever they feel like it due to the lackadaisical Millenial teaching principles of the Constance Billard School -- and indeed, the UES's similarly hapless attention to the inexorable precession of day and night that most of us consider mandatory -- how it is that Vanessa knew where to find them at all. I will tell you: Advanced Placement Stalking & Surveillance. "There you are," she says brightly, concealing her GPS tracking device discreetly in her madwoman's reeds. "What are you doing here?" They wonder, but they will never figure out the answer. Dan and Serena are sweet kids and good people, but not so quick on the uptake. Vanessa hands Dan his Xmas gift: a copy of The New Yorker. As Celia Rhodes would say, "Do go on."