When it comes to the books I read, my range is pretty broad—I read memoirs, chick lit, literary fiction, books abour grammar, nonfiction, thrillers, mysteries, and the list goes on…. I will read just about anything you give me, and I will usually enjoy it. Today I picked up a book I’ve been curious about for awhile. That book is Bergdorf Blondes.
Let me start off by explaining that I didn’t go into this book blind. I wrote a newsletter to Literary Guild book club members about Plum Sykes, the author of this book. Contact me if you’re interested in reading that. I also have read her second book, The Debutante Divorcee. And while not the greatest chick lit book I’ve read, it wasn’t THAT horrible. And Bergdorf Blondes was a much bigger book for her. It was a New York Times bestseller, and extremely popular among many women. I like to keep up with the popular chick lit among my peers and dislike being too behind. So I decided it was about time I pick up the copy I’ve had sitting on my shelf and get it over with.I started reading. The first thought that came to my head was, “This is annoying.” The more I read, the more annoying it became. Please allow me to paraphrase a section:
“. . .here are a few character traits you might want to know about me. . .(I’m) always concerned for others’ well-being. I mean, if a friendly billionaire offers you a ride from New York to Paris on his PJ (that’s a quick NY way of saying private jet), one is morally bound to say yes, because that means the person you would have been sitting next to on the commercial flight now has two seats to themself, which is a real luxury for them. . .if someone else’s comfort is at stake, I say, always take the private jet. “(I’m) tolerant. If a girl is wearing last season’s Manolo Blahnik stilettos, I won’t immediately rule her out as a friend. I mean, you never know if a super-duper nice person is lurking in a past-it pair of shoes.”
Aren’t you annoyed? Imagine reading 310 pages of this. I certainly can’t; I stuck it out for a solid 35. I read all about the difference between Chloe Jeans happiness and Harry Winston happiness. I learned about the British aristocracy and the brown signs they post to get people to donate money to house repairs. I read about how the main character not only learned about Brazilian waxes, but uses them as reason #4 why the U.S. is better than England.
I removed myself from this slow torture after reading this line:
“The only sexually transmitted disease I wanna contract is fiance fever.”
I just can’t. I read a LOT of chick lit, I understand how it can be and accept that. I usually love it. I am familiar with the more annoying chick lit, like the Shopaholic series—one of which I couldn’t get through either. And remember, I read Sykes’ second book, so I know her writing and can be okay with it. But this book just isn’t good. In fact, it’s really, really bad. Bergdorf Blondes was a 35 page waste of my time, and I want that time back.
I’ve read some not-so-nice things about Sykes during my newsletter research, and I know she is a snobby bitch who is overly consumed with name brands and name dropping. Bergdorf Blondes is merely a compilation of all the ultra snotty/snobby/obnoxious things she has encountered in her work at Vogue (both British and American). It reads like a list. And it seems like Syke wants to educate the masses on the types of people she spends time with—and the type of person she is. Of course, this book has got to be an exaggeration (at least I hope it is), but the overall theme is clear.
Thank you, Plum Sykes, for using your talent (and you do have talent, as we see through your work at Vogue) to write an annoying book about annoying people who are more superficial than I care to read about. Maybe one of them gets a heart at the end, perhaps in a visit to their own type of Oz, one where people are less fortunate than a department store heir who shoplifts from her own store as a pastime, and gains some redeeming qualities. I won’t read this book long enough to find out.
Please give me back the last 35 pages of my life. Thanks. Â