Oh, Lydia. We really wanted to believe that you wrote your Page Six Magazine column. We were with you when you wrote about your Cisco Adler–helmed group of "Warhol-esque" friends, the 2.0. When you compared yourself to Hemingway, we thought it was cute. Remember this?
“I sit down and I write what I’m thinking and what I feel — it happens all at once, I never stop writing. Probably when I go home tonight, I’m going to open my computer and just start typing … I always envision myself being a Hemingway type — sitting in a dark corner with my glass of, I guess it would be, my glass of tequila and lime juice — that’s how I do it.”
Reading your column every third week in Page Six Magazine, we often wondered to ourselves whether you really wrote it. But we concluded each time that you must have, because we reasoned that no freelance writer who had any career at all would have been capable of writing in that singular, um, airy tone. But today, "Page Six" (the gossip column) outed you — you didn't write your columns after all!
Instead of sitting at your computer with a glass of tequila and carefully crafting your words, you chatted or e-mailed with a reporter who then compiled your thoughts into a column. That explains why yesterday, when you quit in a huff, you claimed that you didn't write the part of your most recent column that dissed Hearst Corporation, your family's company. Well, "Page Six" today says you may not have typed it out, but you certainly said it, which is, by your definition, the same as "writing" it.
We'd call this kind of aggressive, deep deception "pathological," but let's be fair. Beautiful girls (especially heiresses) can't be expected to always tell the truth. Men, money, laws — everything else can be bent to their will. Why not reality?