This Saturday in Southampton was a bit more fabulous than usual — oh God, you don’t even know why, do you? Perhaps your headbands are on a little too tight today, so let us remind you: It was the casting call for Gossip Girl, HELLO?! Obviously we wouldn’t be worth half an Activa if we didn’t haul ourselves out there for a shot at glory (or to get within spitting distance of Chuck Bass), so to Pink Elephant we went for the 1 p.m. call time. We were told to come “dressed upscale and camera ready,” which had us a little nervous as to whether we’d be up to the competition — but then … there wasn’t any. The massive line of Gucci-clad teenage girls never materialized. Instead, the line maxed out at just four people (including us) and none of us were teenagers. We were amazed. How could only four people want to be on the BEST SHOW EVER? Among the faithful: Us; a woman came dressed as Blair, which reflected, we thought, the appropriate level of dedication; and a guy who looked like Julian MacMahon but wasn’t. “You have to be a serious fan to trek out here for this,” he said, with not a little pride.
Central casting took our picture and provided some little details: They were casting for an “old-money, glamorous, White Party” in the Hamptons, and were looking for people with “upscale looks and wardrobes … Upper East Side high society, conservative prep-school teenagers, elegant bourgeoisie.” But by late in the afternoon, it looked like this would be one party none of the cool kids were planning on showing up to. “Come back later,” the Pink Elephant publicist urged the dejected casting director. “There’ll be wall-to-wall models.” Eventually, we got over feeling like Carrie at the prom and even chipped in our two cents: Maybe you should go to, like, Intermix or something? we said. And off they went, flyers in hand, fingers crossed. —Lauren Le Vine