“Kate the Wasp” is one of our dear friends and our favorite cluelessly entitled white woman. This year, she attended the Harriman Cup with Lauren, and we asked her to tell us about her experience at the event.
Kate the Wasp: Attending the Harriman Cup has been a dream of mine since, gosh – probably 3 days before the event when my friend Lauren texted “I have an extra ticket to a polo match on Saturday, lmk if you wanna come.”
Like most white women, I’m intimately familiar with the dynamics of a polo match: white men do business, white women (perhaps some who are prostitutes) dress up and keep their personalities subdued. I intended to do further research on attire, but unfortunately, Pretty Woman isn’t on Netflix, so I had to rely on memory.
Lauren and I got ready together that morning, which I think was critical to the success of the day. Between our combined use of aerosol hairspray products, I was too “high” and the mirrors too smoggy to notice that at 5’11”, a cameltoe inevitably accompanies a jumpsuit.
My approach was, as it always is, to fashion my hair after the contestants on Toddlers and Tiaras. Dolly Parton said “the higher the hair, the closer to God.” I say, “the bigger the curls, the smaller your entitlement by comparison.”
We arrived at the “polo grounds” – I’m told to use those words, though it was more like a long driveway and a field – to find the party in full swing. While yes, I’d semi-expected valet and to be greeted by a white-gloved server with a tray of mimosas and low carb hors d’oeuvres, it was nice to take a moment to look out over the “grounds” and really take in the scene.
Necessary & Proper: How would you describe it?
Kate: Pastels gone wild. “Wild” of course, is a relative term – anyone lifting their cardigan was merely exposing a button-down underneath. There seemed to be a real sense of community and camaraderie. As if the unofficial slogan was “say it loud, we’re the 1% and proud!!” But not like, that loud. You get it.
I wasn’t totally focused on the “sporting event” part of it until they called us out to the field to stomp the divots. I took special enjoyment in that portion, given I’d traveled without Xanax that day and “stomping” was a great way to release some
frustration rage I was harboring about an under-performing Instagram photo.
At this point, things get somewhat hazy. I think I’d been overserved – I remember drinking chard out of a plastic cup, and then thinking “these cups are probably only half a glass so I can have twice as much” and also “I need to keep drinking to distract myself from the fact that I’m drinking out of a plastic cup.”
N&P: Did you actually see a horse or no?
Kate: I do recall seeing the horses and cheering them on. Well, I thought I was cheering them on, but apparently security didn’t care for me yelling “TRAFALCA ARE YOU OUT THERE? YOUR MOM IS MY SPIRIT ANIMAL” over and over. It’s like: forgive me for being moved by Ann Romney’s story, ya know?
N&P: Is this the closest you have ever been to a port-o-John?
[Ed. note: Kate refused to speak of her experience with the public toilets at Harriman Cup, due to, as she explained it, “acute PTSD from using them at the Goooga Mooga Festival.”]
N&P: What was the highlight of your day?
Kate: After the races were over – and I’d blown my vocal chords shouting “MITT 2016!!!!” – we all gathered under the tent for an amazing dance party. It was like a wedding, but I didn’t have to bring a gift and deal with questions about whether I’m “seeing anyone special.”
N&P: What do you want to see more of next year?
Kate: Deeper reserves of chardonnay.