![]() ![]() In the years that followed they would figure out how to control the medium instead of letting it control them. But others-especially the targets of its supreme bitchiness-emerged hardened, determined. In the end, many of those it celebrated were lost to that time, buried in ash like the poor people of Pompeii. Though its beginnings were humble, the site would prove to be a lit match that, tossed at the ego and ambition and self-interest that fuels New York City, set a fire that spread so wide and so quickly that soon even people outside the white-hot center were choking on the smoke. #Socialite life tv full#The URL is a memorial full of paeans to "the anonymous, dishy, girl-ranking Web site" it once was it lives on only in screengrab scraps and the not-always-fond memories of those who lived through it. Ten years later the Socialite Rank site is gone, its archives scrubbed from the World Wide Web. Next time you think about skipping that certain gala, wearing that unknown designer, dating some weird band member, beware. It was also a moment in which the glamorous and powerful realized that the internet was a force they had best not leave to the nerds, lest it be used against them. Like Studio 54 before it, the website didn't last long-Socialite Rank would disappear within a year-but it was emblematic of a unique moment in history: "the year of the socialite," as the anonymous creators would later crow. She didn't know it at the time, but the appearance of Socialite Rank, as it would come to be known, was the beginning of something. "It felt weird and it felt interesting," Beracasa says now. It was flattering to be noticed, despite the ominous warning the site's anonymous creators issued as part of their mission statement: "Next time you think about skipping that certain gala, wearing that unknown designer, dating some weird band member, beware. Still, she was slightly disappointed she wasn't on the list.Ī few weeks later, after the Met gala, she would be-she'd eventually climb all the way to the hallowed number one spot-and, looking at her own picture, she felt a little thrill. While the internet was a fun distraction, it had not yet become real life. Like many women of her status, Bercasa didn't put much stock in stuff written by pajama-clad bloggers. Many of them she knew: Olivia Chantecaille, Ivanka Trump, and, at number one, her friend Tinsley Mortimer. Sitting down at her computer, she found a stack of digital envelopes, many of them from friends, directing her to a new website: .Ĭlicking on the link, she was surprised to see a list of the top 20 female socialites in Manhattan. Summer, and with it a glittering ocean of parties, was on the horizon. The day was clear and the future was promising. That morning Beracasa woke up in the Fifth Avenue apartment she shared with her mother Veronica Hearst, the widow of publishing scion Randolph. Fabiola Beracasa at the Golden Blast Halloween party at Bungalow 8 in 2006. ![]()
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