Hamptons: The Grand Finale

As I've already learned once this year, all good things come to an end—but I've also found true (that hideous cliche) that when one door closes, indeed, another opens. The closing of my 14-year chapter at Billboard was pretty harrowing at the time, but obviously had I not been pushed off the plank last March, I'd have never had this opportunity to write a book and spend the summer in the Hamptons doing it.

This Labor Day weekend is the end of that chapter, I'm sad to say. Oh, how I shall miss so much of this experience: Liz D., most of all... not only getting to know her as a roommate and now life-long friend, but the most intimate details of her past, as we interviewed night after night. Sometimes she was reluctant and I had to pull it out of her; other times, she poured forth and forced me to stop typing, because I couldn't see through my tears.

I've met some fabulous characters out here this summer: Liz's brutally forthcoming roomie Sidi; the ever-fabulous hostess-with-the Midas touch Caroline; dearly acidic, funny, been-there-seen-it-all Leonard; slightly scattered, frequently frantic but unquestionably talented artist Lynn... and so many others... Sidi's main man, the sweet, observant Latif, and Sidi's, um, rather vocal gal pal Lisa; neighbor Laura downstairs and her eye-candy sons Matt and Evan, Liz's lovable pooches Coco and Jasmine, and her many other allies and friends out this way, each whom I have observed closely and, with few exceptions, found real humanity and warmth.

Of course, I have also cherished my perch here on the porch at Casa de Liz on Meeting House Lane in Southampton, where I spend some 10 hours a day, writing and researching and soaking up the green on all sides. Damn those birds, stifle the lawnmowers... but they're music to my ears compared to car horns and the constant construction that I'm used to in NYC... Here, I wait each day for the crazy lady—who has worn the same purple shirt for the past six weeks—to walk by the house for the fifth time every single day, her eyes blank but driven.

Then there are the weekend events, dinners, charity "obligations" and over-the-top parties, where $$$ oozes. And my great Hamptons pleasure, the block-after-block parade of stunning architecture that never fails to captivate me. This summer, historic farmhouses have all but replaced flat stomachs and white teeth as the "new sexy."One of the things I have adored about this nabe is, much like old-fashioned soap operas, folks just stop in. Fewer phone calls and e-mails and texts... they simply pop by. It's old-fashioned and folksy and endearing. The Hamptons... snobby? Sure, every locale has its pockets, and certainly they are deep here, but not the life that I have had the pleasure of living in Southampton.

The clock is ticking... I'm down to mere days. I can't begin to imagine what might top this... Actually, yes, I can. Obviously, I'm hoping it's a publishing deal.