Snapshots from the Shore

A weekend with five girls from the suburbs

By Kristen Hanejko

Special to Philly EDGE

“Bring the trashiest clothes you own.” 

These were my only instructions for a weekend stay in Sea Isle City, NJ. 

Not one to normally dress trashy, I had to ask my friends why exactly I would be doing this.

It turned out that a house full of guys decided to throw a Gotti and Hotti party.  The party instructions, which were printed on a flyer, stated that all guys had to wear a lot of jewelry, have a “blow out” hairstyle, and wear a headband or oversized hat, while the girls were simply told to dress like “dirty Italian whores.” 

Basically, all attendees were supposed to look like they could be members of the cast of the A&E reality TV show, Growing Up Gotti.

Normally, I would think dressing up in a “costume” would be a weird thing to do (except for Halloween), but “down the shore,” similar to college life, it seems that anything goes and theme parties are very popular.  While this party was the highlight of the weekend, there were some other memorable things that took place over the course of a few days at the shore. 

I was lucky enough to be a weekend guest in a shore house of five 20-something girls who were living in Sea Isle for the summer.  All the girls had remained friends since their time together at a Catholic high school in Philadelphia; most were recent graduates from college, and mainly hailed from Bucks and Montgomery counties. The summer of 2006 was their last summer before they had to face “the real world” without the structure of school.

The girls rented out the bottom floor of a small, but cute, three-story duplex a few blocks away from the beach.  Empty beer cans and discarded cigarette butts were scattered throughout the rocks near the walk leading up to the front door. Most were remnants of the late nights that the girls had spent over the course of the summer. 

The interior of the house usually smelled like a mixture of salt water and stale alcohol, with empty liquor bottles and half-eaten bags of chips lining the kitchen counter and pictures of high school and college friends hanging above the fireplace. 

On this particular weekend, Meghan*, 22, from NE Philly, was the buzz of the house. She had just so happened to be at the House of Blues in Atlantic City for a Friday night show featuring actor John Corbett and his band.  Most of you will remember Corbett as Sarah Jessica Parker’s flame Aidan from Sex and the City. 

During the show, Meghan locked eyes with Corbett. As he exited the stage, he whispered in her ear “Wait for me.” 

It’s not surprising that he would notice her from the stage; Meghan is tall and thin with piercing blue eyes and blonde hair that goes down to the middle of her back. She gave Corbett her number, but left the show thinking that he wouldn’t call her. 

Halfway back to Sea Isle, an odd number showed up on Meghan’s cell phone, she answered; realized it was Corbett and screamed.

Then, she immediately turned her car around and went back to Atlantic City.

Meghan met up with Corbett and the rest of the band in the Foundation Room inside the House of Blues at the Showboat Casino.  She said the room was dark with a Buddha theme and was pretty empty because the band rented out the whole room. They stayed there until about 3:30 a.m. when they went to one of the bars in the casino. 

At the bar, Meghan said swarms of girls came up to Corbett and wanted their picture taken with him, but he wouldn’t comply “after what just happened to Mel [Gibson],” he said.

Meghan said Corbett had long, wavy hair just like in the earlier Sex episodes, but he was “skinny, like he was in the newer episodes.” She said he was wearing “a gross pair of Converse Chuck Taylor high-tops with a grimy, old black t-shirt and jeans that were way too tight for any man to be wearing!” 

As they shared a few cigarettes out on the balcony which overlooked the beach, Meghan said they also shared a little make-out session. 

“The kiss was sloppy,” Meghan said.  “He tasted like Patron (tequila) because he drank so much of it all night.  Every time I turned around, he was ordering more Patron or shots of Red-Headed Sluts.”

The shot, she said, was a funny choice since he seemed to be a little sluttish himself.

“[Corbett] kept whispering in my ear ‘(Room) 1108, baby; you better be there tonight,’” Meghan said.

She declined his invitation to go back to his hotel room, but rushed home to relive every minute over and over again with her closest friends.

And family members.

And neighbors.

And complete strangers. 

Needless to say, she spent the majority of Saturday recovering in bed.

Meghan would eventually venture down to the beach around 3 p.m., still glowing, to meet up with the rest of us who had been baking in the sun for about six hours at that point. 

She was not alone in her late arrival to the beach. 

While I, as a guest, wanted to get to the beach by 9 a.m., most “regulars” needed to sleep off a late night before they could sit in the sun, which was evident by the large crowd of young people that showed up between 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. 

We couldn’t stay for too much longer, however, because Happy Hour was soon to be upon us.  The theme of this Happy Hour (apparently, there are a lot of themes in Sea Isle) was “No Shower Happy Hour,” which happens everyday from 4 p.m.-7 p.m.  A stench of sweat, salt water, body odor and mildew was so thick in the dark, cramped bar; it was like walking into a wall. 

But for $1 beers, you suck it up, hold your nose and drink fast. 

The bar was crowded with mostly 20-somethings but a few older patrons as well; there was a cover band playing; anyone who looked like they had recently showered seemed oddly out of place. 

Now, I am not an expert on matters such as these, but I would say $1 beers after lying on the beach all day and probably not eating a meal is a recipe for disaster.  And in fact, I was informed that there are many nights when the girls “just don’t even make it out after Happy Hour.”

But this night was different.

After all, it was the night of the “Gotti and Hotti Party” and there were a lot of preparations that still needed to be addressed. 

It is quite the sight to see five girls running around asking each other “Do I look slutty in this?” or “Is this gaudy enough?” 

One of the girls, Sam*, 21, from Bucks County, couldn’t decide what to wear.  She was going in and out of everyone’s rooms, trying everything on and hating it all.  One of the problems was that her boobs were too big for most of the shirts she was trying on.  She eventually realized that spilling out of her top was actually appropriate for the party we were heading to, so she settled on a black corset top with her significant cleavage popping out. She piled her auburn hair into a bouffant-like ’do, completing the trashy look in-line with the theme of the party.

On the other end of the spectrum, Ann*, 22, from Langhorne, had no problems getting ready.  She shimmied her way into a blue sequined shirt that was cut down to her navel, which she wore as a dress.  Gold accessories, designer sunglasses, and about an inch of makeup finished off the look.  A pretty and petite blonde, Ann actually looked comfortable dressed “trashy.”  She had clearly put a lot of thought into her outfit.

As we made our way to the party, we were quite the sight to be seen.  Six girls dressed like complete trash, teetering around in dangerously high heels, walking around normally casual Sea Isle, wearing big sunglasses at 10 p.m. 

People pointed and laughed, a few nudged their friends to take pictures of us, and someone even asked us “How much?” 

Nothing like looking like a hooker to make you feel good about yourself.

When we arrived at the party, we were relieved to see that the guys throwing the bash also put a lot of effort into their outfits. 

A basic outfit included: big, spiky hair, a white headband, a white tank top, a big silver belt along with many silver chains, tight white jeans and sneakers.  I’m not sure if it would have been funnier for an outsider to see us girls get ready, or see these attractive young men admiring each other in their “Gotti-ness.”  Either way, we were an interesting looking crowd.  Unfortunately, no other girls really dressed up so we ended up looking like we tried way too hard. Oh well.

Other than the outfits, the party was like any other: a keg, various mixed drinks and the cops breaking it up around 12 a.m., just like college.

While the drinking and the partying are the norm for a summer spent down the shore, there was also a lot of down time as well. For the girls, some of the best times were spent lying around talking; whether it was about the previous night, boys or life in general, sometimes nothing beats a day spent in sweats laughing about anything and everything.  Meghan compared it to high school.  “You can take us out of high school, but you can’t take the high school out of us,” she said. 

But in some ways, the summer of their life was a little bit more grown-up than high school: “A lot of sex, alcohol and pot.  And no one to tell us no.”

* Name changed