"Public transportation arrivistes"

In case you were wondering, the true victims of Hurricane Sandy were not those whose homes were destroyed. Nor were they those who simply didn't have power for a week and then spent much of a semester attempting to commute on a quasi-defunct New Jersey Transit. No, the ones for whom we must shed a tear are Hamptons residents who must now share their precious beaches with displaced Joisey beach-goers. NIMBY, kind of, but a glossier one than most.

As Jim Rutenberg's "styles style" article makes clear, the line between nouveau and old-veau in those parts has long been kind of fluid. The same could of course be said of American "aristocracy" more generally. It's always been nouveau, money-based. From "Real Housewives" to more understated rock-star-and-model offspring to the slightly more distant descendants of tycoons, it's all basically the same, in a way that's more obvious than Old World aristocracy, which can be plausibly imagined to be eternal. And the Hamptons specifically have been glitzy since forever. Those who wanted a world of relatively-old-money American elites - or just nature - have long been going elsewhere.

Which doesn't stop each level of the Hamptons got-there-first hierarchy from thinking they're the only ones who belong:

Mr. Rattray is the fifth member of his family to edit the newspaper over the span of three generations, with roots in the community since the 1600s. “To us it’s one big blur of people from ‘away,’ ” he said. “That fear of Snooki thing may be the last people in pulling the ladder up behind them.”

Alas, Rutenberg doesn't track down someone (presumably in England?) to whom the Rattrays are a caste of untouchables. But you just know that person is out there.