who said socialism is dead?
New York Post - November 14, 2006
THE SOCIALIST
FAMOUS FOR NOTHING, READY FOR ANYTHING: HOW TINSLEY MORTIMER BECAME
N.Y.C.’S NEW SOCIETY QUEEN
By MAUREEN CALLAHAN
TINSLEY Mortimer remembers the first time she ever appeared in Vogue.
“I was wearing this hot pink - so perfect, ’cause pink’s my favorite
color - Givenchy dress. It was pink and it had these little crystal
buttons down the side and it had this big bow, like, right up here” -
she clasps her frail hands to her right shoulder, enormous diamond
engagement ring clacking against a thin gold pinky ring on her
opposite hand - “and the bow, and the pink - I mean, it couldn’t be
more perfect for me! And I wear it, and Vogue was doing a sort of
‘color of the moment’ or something, and I just opened the magazine
and saw it. I was so excited. I mean, I like to see my picture.”
A picture in Vogue magazine is a true watermark for an aspiring
socialite, and Mortimer knew it. Since that moment five years ago,
she has, quite strategically, tapped into a renewed fascination with
the lives of socialites, whose appeal lies in a trompe l’oeil notion
of privilege as a birthright, and who, in New York, are as sought
after by designers, fashion editors and party planners as much as any
celebrity. Unlike their forebears, today’s young socialites are more
democratic than ever (one does not necessarily have to be a blue-
blood, or from old money, or even terribly good-looking to qualify).
That said, as former socialites Carolina Herrera, Diane von
Furstenberg and Gloria Vanderbilt before them, they are equally
interested in turning their curious brand of fame (rooted in, well,
nothing) into an actual, marketable brand, preferably fashion-based.
Mortimer is emerging as this year’s social star; the consensus among
observers, friends, fashion editors and other concerned individuals
is that she is the next Paris Hilton, minus the sleaze factor.
“Tinsley is an exponent of the Paris Hilton phenomenon - photographed
to fame,” says David Patrick Columbia, editor of nysocialdiary.com.
These days, Mortimer’s picture is easily found on blogs like
Columbia’s, as well as the hilariously bitchy socialiterank.com,
where Mortimer is ranked the No. 1 socialite more consistently than
any other, and where she is the major topic of discussion: Is her
nose real? Her hair? Her wealth? She’s got near-perfect attendance in
the party pages of WWD, W magazine and Vogue. She just auditioned for
a lead role in a scripted series about the lives of New York
socialites, and there are currently five other TV projects in
development about the lives of the “socials,” as they prefer to be
called.
Mortimer has also been shot for several fashion magazines in Japan,
where she is a fashion icon. And - like Nicky Hilton before her - she
has been hired by Japanese handbag line Samantha Thavasa to design
and market a collection of her own, called Samantha Thavasa by
Tinsley Mortimer (which just launched on Friday). She says she has
always been a fashion person, at least since the age of 7, describing
herself then as “not so much of a baby-doll person - more of a Barbie
person.”
“It all started with Paris and Nicky,” says Tobias Buschmann - “how
do you say, ‘Head of Everything?’” - of Samantha Thavasa’s U.S.
division. People at the head office in Japan, he says, noticed
Mortimer’s ubiquity in party pages and liked her style, which is
almost a fetishized version of little-girliness: round-toed Mary
Janes; demure hemlines, necklines and tailoring; rigorously curled
hair, pinned to one side and polished a near-reflective shade of
blonde; and makeup meant to augment youth (pink cheeks, pink lip
gloss, wide eyes) rather than sophistication. (Mortimer, who doesn’t
like discussing her age, is 30.)
“The Japanese love cuteness, OK?” Buschmann says. “All that cutesy
stuff. And how she does her hair and her cute smile.” The feeling,
says Mortimer, is mutual: “Everyone I’ve met in Japan has been
absolutely adorable,” she says. “They have big smiles on their faces,
and they just are so cute and seem so happy to meet you or work with
you or something.”
“The faker you seem in Japan, the hotter you are,” says Mortimer’s
good friend, Heatherette designer Richie Rich. “The perfect hair, the
perfect tan, the perfect marriage - everything.”
He pauses. “It’s not easy looking that good,” he says. “She works hard.”
“Tinsley has a great personality and really has something to say,”
adds Thavasa’s Buschmann, before positing what is considered a
crucial hypothetical in the fashion world: “Would we have been able
to do something with her if she was a brunette? If all the other
talents and aspects were there, yes. Absolutely.”
This is a point Mortimer herself welcomes. She may be a “social,” a
girl who goes to parties and gets her picture taken and has her name
on host committees for various charity balls and events - but that,
she maintains, is making a contribution.
She grew up in Richmond, Va., the older daughter of George Mercer, a
businessman who worked both in rugs and real estate (causing some
snobbish sniping among other socials); her mother is an interior
designer, and the family claims to be descended from Thomas
Jefferson. (Mortimer’s younger sister, Dabney Mercer, 28, is also a
New York social who has begun styling herself exactly like Tinsley.)
As a teenager, Mortimer attended a tennis academy in Florida, then
went to boarding school in Lawrenceville, N.J., where she met her
future husband, Robert “Topper” Mortimer. He works in finance; his
family is descended from John Jay; he is rumored to be an heir to the
Standard Oil fortune, but the latter, too, is a matter of dispute
among other socials. Topper doesn’t like publicity and is rarely seen
or photographed with his wife; she refuses to discuss him, citing his
desire for privacy. The two married four years ago, not long after
Mortimer graduated from Columbia University, which she loved.
“That school was so beautiful,” she says. “The architecture and
everything. It might as well have been in Europe.” She graduated with
a degree in art history, “but then I didn’t do anything with it,
because then I went right to work for Vogue magazine.” Her tenure
lasted nine months.
“You know, Vogue was tough,” she begins cautiously, over a late lunch
at Lever House. (She orders one Diet Coke, one cappuccino and a tuna
tartare the size of a hockey puck, from which she will take only one
bite.) “I mean, it was such good training, just dealing with people,
and, you know, it was a bunch of girls, and girls can be tough. And,
um, also, you just have to - you don’t have to be, but it feels like
you’re obligated to be super-chic in the morning, with your Manolos.
It’s not getting up in the morning - I have two Chihuahuas, so I get
up pretty early. But just to be totally fixed up - it was a little
overwhelming.”
In fact, Mortimer and her dilemma inspired a character in fellow
social Plum Sykes’ recent novel, “The Debutante Divorcee,” which
features a character named Tinsley who laments her inability to hold
down a job: “I can only dress for evening,” the character proclaims.
“So obviously office life doesn’t work for me.”
Mortimer admits she was the inspiration, but says that any
similarities are “totally exaggerated. I do love to dress up,” she
concedes, “but getting all glammed up for day is something I prefer
not to do.”
And it is Mortimer’s signature, cultivated look that, more than
anything, is responsible for her ascension to the top of the social
set: “Tinsley has a look that’s sort of literary in intent,” says
Social Diary’s Columbia. “She looks like she could be a character in
a Scott Fitzgerald novel. She doesn’t look slutty. She doesn’t look,
pardon my language, like she’s gonna get laid. Is she happy? Is she
sad? Does she have a good marriage or not? She looks like she has a
story there.”
Anyway: After Vogue, she decided to enroll at Parsons, studying
decorative art. That lasted four months. “I always sort of dreamed of
going to Parsons and stuff for interior design,” she says. “Then I
realized that, I mean, I was there, and I, um, I just got a little
sick of papers. And school.”
Then, through Topper, she got a job at the p.r. firm Harrison &
Shriftman. “My job was sort of to invite the social people and make
sure they attend the events. Because obviously I know them, so it’s
easier to call up your friends and say, ‘You have to come to this
event for a few hours.’” She did that for two years, then quit after
getting married in 2002: “I finished with working,” she says.
Mortimer’s friends are the top tier of New York socials; as the
anonymous cabal behind socialiterank.com says, “Top girls tend to
stick together.” Loyally, they defend her.
“You know what? Tinsley deserves every bit of everything that she’s
getting because she’s a wonderful person,” says Fabiola Beracasa, a
friend and A-list social. “Anyone who says anything else is drinking
Haterade.”
As for the increasing interest in the lives of young socialites,
Beracasa thinks it’s elemental: “I just think people like to know
something real,” she says. “It’s not like, ‘Oh, a stylist dressed
her, and she grew up in a trailer park,’ like with an actress. Or a
model.” She pauses. “Being me, I can say people perceive you in a
very one-dimensional way. They don’t know us. We do work. We do
meaningful things. We’re not just pretty girls getting manicures.”
Still, Mortimer admits that sometimes she can’t help but log on to
socialiterank.com and see what people are saying about her. And while
she has plenty of fans, the posts by detractors can be vicious -
mocking her appearance, her intelligence, her absentee spouse. “She
looks like a thoroughly nouveau plebe,” read one post, probably the
worst thing one can say about a social.
“Obviously it’s all sort of in good fun,” Mortimer says, struggling
to be polite. “It’s humorous. But unfortunately, I think it’s a
little sad. Those anomynous” - here she wincingly mispronounces the
word - “posted comments are just not very nice sometimes. And to give
someone free reign to be anomynous and say whatever they want and lie
- that’s hurtful.”
On the other hand, to paraphrase Columbia: Whatever. “This social
circle is a lot more democratic, and the secret is in the lens,” he
says. “Tinsley is seen always in front of a camera. It is, simply,
that she is there.”