Postcard from Montauk

Summer correspondence from the end of the world.

Jun 18, 2024

For the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling very in touch with my inner Pisces. Whether that is a good or a bad thing, I don't know. My feelings have felt BIG, all-consuming even.

I’ve had an endless string of house guests and visitors to look after, several parties to host, and a loved one in the hospital, among other things. I realize it sounds frivolous to tell you I’m exhausted from taking care of people, which is usually one of my favorite things to do. But I’ve poured from my cup too much lately without refilling it. It’s mostly my fault. My friend group here is really very supportive and fulfilling. Life has simply crescendoed. I’ve overextended.

There is so much pressure to do it all: attend the parties, kill it at work, crank out content, be a social butterfly, be thinner, dress better, don’t compare yourself, be a great partner, be a good daughter, be a good sister. And if you bow out of something, social media is right there to remind you of what you’re missing.

For the last few months, I have completely lost my balance. Even my body is out of whack. My face is puffy, I’m broken out, and the stress is making my body hold on to everything. (Since we’re all friends here, if anyone has remedies for constipation, stress relief, or bloating, please comment.)

So I ran away. To Montauk, at the end of the world. This is where I’ll be for the next month. In my twenties, I would have come here for the party scene. But now that I am older, I come for the connection to nature. The only sounds I hear are the chirp of birds and the occasional boat rudder. I’ve found a quiet cottage to rent right on the water, away from everything, in the middle of protected land.

Water. Of course, water. How Piscean.

And how familiar. Last year, on this exact day, we were at Blackberry Mountain, vacationing after the last burnout. My guy was studying for the New York Bar the whole trip, and we were too bone-tired from weeks of packing to do anything but sleep and flyfish. We moved just a few weeks later, a hair short of one year ago.

Not two weeks after the last box was unpacked, I headed straight for Montauk. Alone. And I stood in this exact place, ankle-deep in salt water, staring at my feet as I felt my body un-clench for the first time in six months.

This afternoon, I was playing with my dogs outside when a doe came upon us. The dogs couldn’t have cared about her less. And so she stood there, staring at us quietly for a good five minutes until sauntering off into the tall grass.

I followed her from a distance as she walked out along the beach. I got distracted by collecting perfect lady slippers among the broken shells as the tide rolled out. Later, I lay in the grass and did nothing but feel the sun on my skin. For lunch, I cut open a perfectly ripe tomato from the farm stand. I ate it on bread, open-face with Duke’s mayo like my Poppy taught us as kids. I sat out on the little porch of my cottage and watched a female carpenter bee dizzy herself in circles, using her powerful mandibles to drill holes in the wood.

I’ll be joined soon by my guy, and I have a handful of social plans while I’m here. But for now, during this first week, I am enjoying the peace and quiet. I love waking up with the whole day in front of me, no commitments. I love wearing only a swimsuit (Hunza G) and flip-flops (The Row) with a button-up (Chava Studio) all day. My hair is wind-beaten because I rented a Jeep. The tops of my legs are already a little brown from the top-down rides.

I’m interrupted by push alerts: Air Quality warning in Manhattan. Justin Timberlake gets DUI in Sag Harbor. Bootleg Ozempic being sold over CashApp. Missed call from a WSJ Editor (oops). You have unread DMs! Edits due to New York Mag!

I’m about to turn my phone off.

There’s an overprotective mockingbird that’s nested right above my front door. She keeps dive-bombing my dogs every time we come outside, cussing them out. I wonder if, after her babies are born, she might like a job looking after me instead. She seems excellent at maintaining boundaries.

Next letter…

A Packing list for The Hamptons + Summer shopping questions from readers.

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