A review by mcreed06
Primates of Park Avenue, by Wednesday Martin
2.0
I was in the midst of slugging through Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything, when my mother gave me a "You have to read this!" I did not hesitate. Reading about how people live on Park Avenue in New York City is a much more enticing subject matter than reading about how to compete in the World Memory Championships.
There is one sad chapter about losing an unborn baby at 6 months pregnant, which my mother warned me not to read, but I did anyway out of curiosity. The rest of Primates of Park Avenue prompts laughter and incredulity with light conversation with others who have also read it. It's the book club book for next month, and I wonder if it will make for more stimulating conversation than The Scarlett Letter or Edgar Allen Poe.
But let's take it with a grain of salt.
I'm positive that not every single mother at the Upper East Side is the ultimate snob with a "Mean Girl" persona. Surely, at the very minimum, there is at least one parent who has the manners to return a one-word greeting from a newcomer. I'm positive that not every single owner of a Birkin Handbag feels the need to use it to establish superiority on the sidewalks of Park Avenue. Exaggeration was probably utilized to enhance the entertainment value of the book.
That being said, I have encountered similar situations in my son's school in Buckhead, a part of Atlanta, which some perceive as the Upper East Side of the Southeast. This is my son's third year of enrollment at this school, and I can count on one hand the number of parents who return my efforts to talk. This was a culture shock after the family-like atmosphere of our previous school Like Wednesday Martin, I encountered mothers who looked the other way instead of returning my greeting, or mumbled a very superficial "Hi." As Wednesday Martin astutely observed, it is the Dads who are friendlier and it's the Dads who outnumber the mothers on the one hand count of parents who will acknowledge my presence. During my son's first year, I was invited to lunch with two other mothers by a mutual friend (whose son was not enrolled in said school) we all shared. I was excited to be included and looked forward to making new friends at my son's new school. Well, the conversation centered around how fast they could get their sons back into Top-Tier schools, which was not an option for us at the time. It wasn't long before talk turned to youth sports of Buckhead, a topic which naturally excluded me because my son had not exactly taken to the athletic fields. These two mothers were Joneses that I could not keep up with, and we all knew it. It was a coincidence that all three of our boys were in the same class the following year, and were the only boys in the class of seven girls and three boys. Not once during the entire school year did one of those mothers extend a single gesture of friendliness to me and my son. The other mother lived within carpool distance from us, and we did carpool which was nice. While that mother was the friendlier of the two, there were hardly any interactions between our boys outside of carpool during the school year. (The friendlier mother and I did get together a few times over the summer which meant the world to my son) My son invited the other two boys to a trampoline park for his birthday in January, and neither of the boys could or would go. The friendlier mom connected with me on Social Media, and soon afterwards, gleefully posted pictures appeared on my Newsfeed of her son and the other boy enjoying a fun day at a nearby lake. I was wistful, knowing how much my son would have loved to have been included. However, by that point, I had long accepted that my son's differences excluded him from social opportunities. Still, that there were just three boys in the classroom made seeing those pictures sting a little bit. This school has been a hard struggle, however in the worst of times, there are still one or two Moms or Dads who will smile at the halls of the school, and let me know that I'm not completely invisible. While my son's calendar in the past three years has been almost completely void of play dates and birthday parties, Wednesday Martin, at least, broke that barrier.
The Anthropology does not go beyond the 101 level, but some of the insights were valid. I would hope that human beings are more evolved than apes, gorillas, and chimps when it comes to compassion for the fellow man. Other than a few sentences about being married to a Jewish family, there was not one mention of religion in the book, and I wondered if the Upper East Side families go to church, encourage belief in a higher power, daily prayer, or promote community service that is beyond attending the Galas? Surely some families do! Surely, not every single family is as wrapped up and self absorbed as Wednesday Martin portrays them?
Technically, I do not live in Buckhead. I live in Sandy Springs, about a few blocks east from Buckhead and a few blocks west from another desirable area called Brookhaven. It's the sprawl of metro Atlanta that prevents Buckhead from becoming as regimented as the geographically dense Upper East Side. The nice thing about living in Buckhead is I believe one can make it what one wants it to be. You can find your own niche. While there's plenty of the Upper East Side mentality here, there's also plenty of opportunities to find your own people. I am very lucky to have friends here. They are not at my son's school though.
Probably more distinguishing than rather you live in Buckhead, Brookhaven, Vinings, Sandy Springs or Decatur is whether you live ITP or OTP (inside the Perimeter or outside the Perimater). People's true colors seem to come out when ITP or OTP comes up in conversation. For example, the following post appeared in the Buckhead/Brookhaven Referrals and Advice page on Facebook (by the way, wouldn't you love to see a similar page for the Upper East Side Referrals and Advice? I am sure it exists!)
I took the liberty to correct some of her grammar. FYI for those who are not from Atlanta, Alpharetta is a suburb just a quick 15 minute drive OTP except during rush hour, which can be slow crawl up the highway. Alpharetta's distance from Atlanta is more mental than actual number in miles.
....Is it true that the only American Girl doll store (with café/experience, etc.) is in Alpharetta (insert sad emoji)? Say it ain't so. We live in Buckhead.
Wow. Was this woman for real? There were so many things wrong with this post. First of all, that is why Google is there. Just Google American Girl, and you will have all the information on American Girl stores on your finger tips. There was no need to post such a lazy question on Facebook, unless you want to brag about having an American Girl Birthday for your 5-year-old daughter on a public forum. Second of all, the comment expresses an extreme provincial mentality that one does not venture out of Buckhead just as one does not venture beyond the confines of the Upper East Side. Apparently I was not the only one who picked up on the ridiculousness of this question. The comments under the post put this woman in her place. Among them..(some are paraphrased to the best of my memory)
Alpharetta is only 15 minutes away when you time it right traffic-wise. It takes much longer than that to get from one end of Buckhead to the other.
A 15-minute drive up 400 to Alpharetta is easier than flying to Chicago or New York.
I drive up and down 400 to and from Alpharetta, further beyond North Pointe Mall, twice a day for work. No big deal. At least it's not Piedmont/Peachtree in Buckhead during Rush Hour.
There's a hotel near the North Pointe Mall where the American Girl Doll store is...take your passport!
And my favorite...
Gasp!! Yes, there is a life outside of Buckhead! OMG!
Yes, there 's a life outside of Buckhead. And there is most certainly a life outside of the Upper East Side. It appears that Wednesday Martin discovered that for at the end of the book, she had moved her family to the Upper West Side, only a hop and a skip across Central Park, but worlds away in people's minds.
One last note: If only Wednesday Martin knew when she became obsessed with acquiring a handbag with a price tag of over $10,000 that all she had to do to get that coveted Birkin was log on to eBay and bid on one from Michael Tonello of Bringing Home the Birkin. He could have gotten one easily for her, and saved her husband from bringing one home from halfway around the world. The chapter on the Birkin Bag irked most readers that I talked to about this book because it became clear that Wednesday Martin had sold out, and become one of the Upper East Side; a fact she herself readily admits when she compares herself to anthropologists who immerse themselves into a tribe or culture, and end up totally assimilating to the point of forgetting who they were before. I guess the same Anthropology applies whether it's the tribes of Africa or the mega rich of New York.
There is one sad chapter about losing an unborn baby at 6 months pregnant, which my mother warned me not to read, but I did anyway out of curiosity. The rest of Primates of Park Avenue prompts laughter and incredulity with light conversation with others who have also read it. It's the book club book for next month, and I wonder if it will make for more stimulating conversation than The Scarlett Letter or Edgar Allen Poe.
But let's take it with a grain of salt.
I'm positive that not every single mother at the Upper East Side is the ultimate snob with a "Mean Girl" persona. Surely, at the very minimum, there is at least one parent who has the manners to return a one-word greeting from a newcomer. I'm positive that not every single owner of a Birkin Handbag feels the need to use it to establish superiority on the sidewalks of Park Avenue. Exaggeration was probably utilized to enhance the entertainment value of the book.
That being said, I have encountered similar situations in my son's school in Buckhead, a part of Atlanta, which some perceive as the Upper East Side of the Southeast. This is my son's third year of enrollment at this school, and I can count on one hand the number of parents who return my efforts to talk. This was a culture shock after the family-like atmosphere of our previous school Like Wednesday Martin, I encountered mothers who looked the other way instead of returning my greeting, or mumbled a very superficial "Hi." As Wednesday Martin astutely observed, it is the Dads who are friendlier and it's the Dads who outnumber the mothers on the one hand count of parents who will acknowledge my presence. During my son's first year, I was invited to lunch with two other mothers by a mutual friend (whose son was not enrolled in said school) we all shared. I was excited to be included and looked forward to making new friends at my son's new school. Well, the conversation centered around how fast they could get their sons back into Top-Tier schools, which was not an option for us at the time. It wasn't long before talk turned to youth sports of Buckhead, a topic which naturally excluded me because my son had not exactly taken to the athletic fields. These two mothers were Joneses that I could not keep up with, and we all knew it. It was a coincidence that all three of our boys were in the same class the following year, and were the only boys in the class of seven girls and three boys. Not once during the entire school year did one of those mothers extend a single gesture of friendliness to me and my son. The other mother lived within carpool distance from us, and we did carpool which was nice. While that mother was the friendlier of the two, there were hardly any interactions between our boys outside of carpool during the school year. (The friendlier mother and I did get together a few times over the summer which meant the world to my son) My son invited the other two boys to a trampoline park for his birthday in January, and neither of the boys could or would go. The friendlier mom connected with me on Social Media, and soon afterwards, gleefully posted pictures appeared on my Newsfeed of her son and the other boy enjoying a fun day at a nearby lake. I was wistful, knowing how much my son would have loved to have been included. However, by that point, I had long accepted that my son's differences excluded him from social opportunities. Still, that there were just three boys in the classroom made seeing those pictures sting a little bit. This school has been a hard struggle, however in the worst of times, there are still one or two Moms or Dads who will smile at the halls of the school, and let me know that I'm not completely invisible. While my son's calendar in the past three years has been almost completely void of play dates and birthday parties, Wednesday Martin, at least, broke that barrier.
The Anthropology does not go beyond the 101 level, but some of the insights were valid. I would hope that human beings are more evolved than apes, gorillas, and chimps when it comes to compassion for the fellow man. Other than a few sentences about being married to a Jewish family, there was not one mention of religion in the book, and I wondered if the Upper East Side families go to church, encourage belief in a higher power, daily prayer, or promote community service that is beyond attending the Galas? Surely some families do! Surely, not every single family is as wrapped up and self absorbed as Wednesday Martin portrays them?
Technically, I do not live in Buckhead. I live in Sandy Springs, about a few blocks east from Buckhead and a few blocks west from another desirable area called Brookhaven. It's the sprawl of metro Atlanta that prevents Buckhead from becoming as regimented as the geographically dense Upper East Side. The nice thing about living in Buckhead is I believe one can make it what one wants it to be. You can find your own niche. While there's plenty of the Upper East Side mentality here, there's also plenty of opportunities to find your own people. I am very lucky to have friends here. They are not at my son's school though.
Probably more distinguishing than rather you live in Buckhead, Brookhaven, Vinings, Sandy Springs or Decatur is whether you live ITP or OTP (inside the Perimeter or outside the Perimater). People's true colors seem to come out when ITP or OTP comes up in conversation. For example, the following post appeared in the Buckhead/Brookhaven Referrals and Advice page on Facebook (by the way, wouldn't you love to see a similar page for the Upper East Side Referrals and Advice? I am sure it exists!)
I took the liberty to correct some of her grammar. FYI for those who are not from Atlanta, Alpharetta is a suburb just a quick 15 minute drive OTP except during rush hour, which can be slow crawl up the highway. Alpharetta's distance from Atlanta is more mental than actual number in miles.
....Is it true that the only American Girl doll store (with café/experience, etc.) is in Alpharetta (insert sad emoji)? Say it ain't so. We live in Buckhead.
Wow. Was this woman for real? There were so many things wrong with this post. First of all, that is why Google is there. Just Google American Girl, and you will have all the information on American Girl stores on your finger tips. There was no need to post such a lazy question on Facebook, unless you want to brag about having an American Girl Birthday for your 5-year-old daughter on a public forum. Second of all, the comment expresses an extreme provincial mentality that one does not venture out of Buckhead just as one does not venture beyond the confines of the Upper East Side. Apparently I was not the only one who picked up on the ridiculousness of this question. The comments under the post put this woman in her place. Among them..(some are paraphrased to the best of my memory)
Alpharetta is only 15 minutes away when you time it right traffic-wise. It takes much longer than that to get from one end of Buckhead to the other.
A 15-minute drive up 400 to Alpharetta is easier than flying to Chicago or New York.
I drive up and down 400 to and from Alpharetta, further beyond North Pointe Mall, twice a day for work. No big deal. At least it's not Piedmont/Peachtree in Buckhead during Rush Hour.
There's a hotel near the North Pointe Mall where the American Girl Doll store is...take your passport!
And my favorite...
Gasp!! Yes, there is a life outside of Buckhead! OMG!
Yes, there 's a life outside of Buckhead. And there is most certainly a life outside of the Upper East Side. It appears that Wednesday Martin discovered that for at the end of the book, she had moved her family to the Upper West Side, only a hop and a skip across Central Park, but worlds away in people's minds.
One last note: If only Wednesday Martin knew when she became obsessed with acquiring a handbag with a price tag of over $10,000 that all she had to do to get that coveted Birkin was log on to eBay and bid on one from Michael Tonello of Bringing Home the Birkin. He could have gotten one easily for her, and saved her husband from bringing one home from halfway around the world. The chapter on the Birkin Bag irked most readers that I talked to about this book because it became clear that Wednesday Martin had sold out, and become one of the Upper East Side; a fact she herself readily admits when she compares herself to anthropologists who immerse themselves into a tribe or culture, and end up totally assimilating to the point of forgetting who they were before. I guess the same Anthropology applies whether it's the tribes of Africa or the mega rich of New York.