Issue link: http://papercitymagazine.uberflip.com/i/1525827
Letter from the Editor Illustration @Acaeventdesigns W elcome back. Even though you might have decamped only one time zone away to Aspen or Martha's Vineyard for the summer, you're likely feeling that odd sense of jet lag — that weird reality where you're half in vacation mode (craving an Aperol Spritz at 2 pm, prime pool time in those aforementioned enclaves of the special percenters set) and half in Dallas. And, by reality, I mean the daunting list of events you RSVPed oui to that fill your Smythson datebook. I, on the other hand, have been here most of the summer, except for some quick trips to the Left Coast and a road trip to Tallahassee with stops en route in New Orleans, which you can read about in this issue. I've prepared myself for the marathon of black-tie galas, charity fashion shows, trunk shows with the requisite ladies lunching, and the usual smattering of launch parties. Or maybe I'm only prepared on the surface … I just had my final fitting for a new gray suit (there truly are 50 shades of my favorite color) from Hive & Colony that I'll debut at one of those parties. I also have an appointment for the next time Clements and Church is in town from the UK to have new culottes made (my dressier version of shorts). I'm also planning a spa day at the newly reimagined Joule Hotel Spa, so hopefully my skin will be glowing (more about that in an upcoming issue). Ooh, I also ordered a new illustration to accompany this month's correspondence to you. This summer, my playlist has been packed with my usual schizophrenic mash- up of beats by '90s one-hit wonders as well as a refreshingly rediscovered smattering of '80s hip hop. You know — the glory days of Beastie Boys rhymin and stealin, Ladies Love Cool James, and some Run DMC. One track I kept listening to was Run's "Peter Piper," and after a few too many replays poolside, I was able to recite all the lyrics: "Now Little Bo Peep cold lost her sheep — and Rip Van Winkle fell the hell asleep — and Alice chilling somewhere in Wonderland." (Note, I did fall down a true hip-hop rabbit hole at one point, googling to make sure I had these sage words correct.) In our September book, you'll find a wonderland of interiors, art, and fashion from the likes of Celine, Adam Lippes, and Dolce & Gabbana. I'm obsessed with the Lippes poncho on page 80 with a waterfall drape that screams "You've arrived!" and the head-to-boot Celine ensemble (page 82) that's part of Hedi Slimane's recent collection, with brilliant shades of early Pierre Cardin. You'll also see a new idea we're debuting in this issue: Inside Edition. We polled some of our favorite insiders to see how they navigate our playful little hamlet, as scoring the right timeslot for the right table at the right restaurant can be stressful. I learned oodles and oodles, including … why haven't I been heading to Cindi's or Sclafani's regularly for my bagels-and-lox fix? Well, give this issue a read, then throw open the doors to your wardrobe and strategize the busy social season ahead. To paraphrase Run DMC's Jam Master Jay, life in high heels is like a turntable: "The turntables might wobble, but they don't fall down." If you find yourself wobbling in a pair of Tom Ford sky-high heels at one of the myriad events this month, search me out. I'm fine if you need someone to lean on awhile as you prepare to enter the cocktail mêlée again. Your very own Peter Piper, Billy Fong Dallas Editor in Chief billy@papercitymag.com 50