I’m In A Hamptons, Jenna Lyons, Swimsuit State Of Mind
Even though it's pissing down with rain this Memorial Day weekend.
It’s Memorial Day weekend in America — the unofficial start of summer.
As I write this, it’s absolutely pissing down rain. But that won’t stop Hamptonites from beginning their annual migration “out east” as they flee “the city” every weekend and typically all of July and August for their beach houses on Long Island.
From late June through Labor Day (always the first Monday in September), school is out, and New York City empties out.
Sadly, I do not own a beach house — or even a beach shack — in the Hamptons.
Much to the disappointment of my now-15-year-old son Javier, who loves hanging out in the Hamptons. Thankfully for him, he has friends with homes “out east” and never seems short of an invite.
That also doesn’t stop him from regularly lobbying me to buy or rent something for the summer.
He won’t remember this, but in the early years after we moved to New York in 2014 — read why we left our idyllic life in Sydney here— Javi would often ask, “Mum, do we have a beach house?”
A question prompted by the confusion of watching his Manhattan mates disappear in droves every weekend to their second homes.
“Yes, darling, we do. It just happens to be on the other side of the world,” I’d respond.
Our charming 1890s workers’ cottage in Sydney is ten minutes from the iconic Bondi Beach. In Australia, you don’t need two houses. Beach culture is a built in part of everyday life.
So I completely get the New Yorker’s need for a dual reality — to escape the concrete jungle and give their kids an upbringing that involves being barefoot on the grass and feeling the sand between their toes.
As an Aussie in NYC, I’m an unapologetic beach snob. East Coast beaches just don’t cut it compared to our soft white sand, crashing surf, turquoise water, and palm-tree-lined paradises.
But here’s the thing about the Hamptons: it’s ridiculously cute, quaint, and woody in a way I never expected from watching Hollywood movies.
Think charming cedar-shingled homes draped in climbing hydrangeas. Long winding lanes shaded by ancient oak and elm trees. Farm stands overflowing with peaches and heirloom tomatoes. White wicker porches (and plenty of white-girl rosé). The whole Nancy Meyers postcard fantasy.
Much more sweet Something’s Gotta Give Diane Keaton than drug-fucked Wolf of Wall Street Leonardo DiCaprio.
Though, in Leo’s defense, it is wildly cliquey, offensively expensive and I suspect in summer the drug-fuelled parties run riot.
The average home price now hovers around $3.5 million — and trust me, that’s for something pretty basic. Seasonal rentals can range anywhere from $50,000 to well over $350,000 for the summer.
Then there’s the mega wealth. “Fair Field” in Sagaponack — the infamous 110,000-square-foot estate owned by billionaire Ira Rennert — is reportedly worth $425 million. The estate spans 63 oceanfront acres and comes outfitted with 29 bedrooms, 39 bathrooms, three pools, a basketball court, bowling alley, and a 164-seat theatre. Just your average beach home.
The Bougie History Of The Hamptons
The Hamptons — named after Southampton, one of the original English settlements established in the 1600s — is a collection of affluent seaside villages and hamlets on the South Fork of Long Island.
For decades, it’s been the summer playground of Wall Street titans, old-money American dynasties, fashion royalty, artists, and celebrities. In the mid-20th century, artists like Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning turned the East End into a creative enclave. By the 1980s, it had been dubbed “Hollywood East.”
Andy Warhol partied in Montauk. Calvin Klein put it on the fashion map when he made minimalist beach chic a personality. Ralph Lauren, Donna Karan, Gwyneth Paltrow, Martha Stewart, SJP, Beyoncé, and Jay-Z have all called the Hamptons home at some point.
As did Estée Lauder, who passed her famous Wainscott home through the generations, and it’s now home to her granddaughter Aerin Lauder, whom I visited there and had tea with on the porch while interviewing her for a cover story for The Telegraph. The house was exactly what you’d imagine from the Lauder aesthetic empire: blue-and-white interiors, fresh hydrangeas, rattan, polished silver trays, and reeking of elegant beach sophistication and old money.
The “Other” Hamptons
We might not technically be Hamptonites, but we’ve dipped our toes into life out east in a much more low-key way. Our first American friends, JJ and Johnny Burden, invited us to their place on Shelter Island during our first summer in New York.
Shelter Island sits between the North and South Forks of Long Island and is only accessible via a short ferry ride. It’s quieter, sleepier, and somehow more old-school than the main Hamptons circuit.
I still remember that first ferry ride and kind of pinching myself.
We had actual friends. We were building a life here. We were making memories in America. Some of my happiest family memories live on Shelter Island.
Swimming at Hay Beach. Farmers markets. Pumpkin patches. Fireflies for the first time. Birthday parties with bouncy castles. S’mores. Hammocks. Plenty of that white-girl rosé. Putt-putt golf. Easter egg hunts. And when we were feeling bougie, barefoot lunches at Sunset Beach — a trendy André Balazs boutique hotel and restaurant—running with the influencer crowd.
The Seasonal NYC Hotspot
Today, the celebrities, socialites, finance bros, and fashion crowd jostle for a sunset booking at Duryea’s to drink rosé and tuck into lobster rolls alongside new-money influencers, wellness gurus, and Bravo cameras.
That’s the downside right there. Over the summer, restaurants book out weeks in advance. You can wait 40 minutes for an iced coffee at Carissa’s Bakery in Sag Harbor. And if you’ve ever attempted to get into The Surf Lodge during peak summer — say a July Sunday when Rufus Du Sol is playing at sunset — you’ll understand the phrase “beautiful chaos.”
For my Aussies, Montauk — perched right at the very end of Long Island and thus nicknamed “The End” — is the closest thing to surf culture you’ll get as a New Yorker. In fact, it’s often called NYC’s Byron Bay: a little surfy, a little bohemian, completely overrun.
Yet, lust for the Hamptons has not diminished over the decades (even though, TBH, I prefer Mexico, Costa Rica, or Greece), propped up by its starring role in TV shows like The Affair, Revenge, and The Real Housewives of New York City.
Jenna Lyons’ Hamptons Happy Place
Speaking of The Real Housewives of New York City, when I think of the Hamptons, my mind almost immediately goes to Jenna Lyons. And not just because of that iconic moment in RHONY when the style icon quietly leaves the cast’s Hamptons rental in the middle of the night (and a girlie weekend) to go sleep at her own house nearby because she craved air conditioning, privacy, and proper sleep.
Queen.
When I interviewed the designer, former J.Crew creative director, and OG cool girl a few years ago at her ridiculously chic SoHo loft about her “Perfect Sunday,” she immediately transported herself to her home in Amagansett.
And you bet her perfect Sunday is every bit the Nancy Meyers-meets-fashion-girl fantasy version of East Coast summer.
Jenna wakes around 7 a.m., does a Tracy Anderson workout with friends, heads to Vicki’s farm stand with her son Beckett, weeds her garden (“it’s cathartic”), walks her rescue dog Popeye to the beach through her private street entrance, showers outdoors surrounded by beauty products, then ends the night with a bonfire, s’mores, and ice cream from John’s Drive-In.
Jenna Lyons? In the garden.
What does the woman who invented the cool downtown-mum aesthetic — vintage men’s Levi’s, oversized button-downs, Birkenstocks, DITA aviators, and a bold orange-red lip — wear while gardening?
A bikini.
Of course she does.
The Bikini Jenna Lyons Swears By
During our interview, Jenna told me she’d become obsessed with the swimwear brand Left On Friday.
“I’m a Californian girl, so I usually garden in my swimsuit,” she laughed. “I love Left On Friday. I have a bikini, and they are so cute. They have this fabric, and it just holds everything in.”
Founded by two former Lululemon executives Laura Low Ah Kee and Shannon Savage, Left On Friday was created after the designers realized that most swimwear wasn’t actually designed for movement — or doing anything active, for that matter.
So they engineered a compression fabric that sucks everything into place, smooths perfectly, and also happens to be super soft. It’s so freaking good, it’s been hailed “the skinny jeans of swim bottoms.”
I personally retired bikinis about 20 years ago. I have boobs. They just don’t work.
But when Jenna gives you a style tip, you listen up.
So I wrestled myself into a Left On Friday bikini.
It’s become my go-to.
I get stopped constantly when I wear it.
Now if only the f*ing rain would stop so I can do just that.






Miss the Hampton’s of my youth - early 70’s to early 90’s. My mom had a tiny house in BH that was adjacent to open space and potato fields! The beaches are so good and Stephen Talkhouse remains my all time favorite venue for live music.
I miss the Hamptons — we left NYC in 2008, but I met and married my husband out there and today our 12yo dog is named Montauk. I try to get back annually, always staying with a dearest friend in Sag. Enjoy the long weekend xx