I recall Labor Day 2002, we ventured to Montauk for a five-day getaway.  Wow; that was great. Great surf, good food, naps, and carefree agendas.  For those who have surfed the once chill waters off Ditch Plains or sat with the locals in the cozy, warm eateries or those who recall Richard Avedon and Peter Beard instead of chatting about latter-days saints a la Julian Schnabel. Speaking of PB (I’m a huge fan); I instantly recall Amy LaRocca’s profile of Beard (in 2003)…Bwana Comes Home.

PB: “Montauk used to have what you call rural integrity,” he (Beard) says, “but now it’s under the hand of East Hampton, which is like Palm Beach or New York. It’s a loser’s game. But I don’t really care. When you get to be 65, you get old-age benefits. I get on the Jitney for half-price, I get into movies. I’m home free.”  –

Math is simple. The end is the end is the end.

This theory rang even more true after today’s New York Post Page six scoop vis a via Black Book Magazine’s (um, pot calling kettle black) proclamation, check it here: Coming To The End…Montauk’s Indian Summer Dies Out.  Where will the Black Book crowd crop up next summer?  Do their glossy pages dictate cool? Seems even PB knew of the landscape invasion six years back.  Perhaps it’s too late.

the end's lighthouse.

Thanks to the wealthy East Hampster transplants–primarily those who fashion themselves as 30’s hip things (blonde PR types, trustafari surfers and would-be hoteliers a la the Surf Shack, daddy’s girls, lesbitarians) the list goes on and on an on.  Yes, they move to unproot their shingle house surf shanties ($$) and learn to surf.  Yes, the Manhattan girl who wants to surf Ditch Plains and still rock Gucci stilettos at night.  Congrats, you caught your first tube.

If it breaks, she can now venture to the Gucci boutique. Yes, she has arrived, it’s been a few years now, and Montauk is her backyard. This doesn’t leave much fun for the locals who failed to keep the quiet, charming bohemian vibe at bay. So much for the authentic vibe of the place.

Perhaps it was a floozy’s Gucci sandal that killed the Montauk Monster a few years back. That’s not the X Files…that’s evolution baby (yes, I’m implying flying Gucci shoes are killing the natural wonders).