Today I had been planning to go to Stockholm to see some friends and soak up the atmosphere before Crown Princess Victoria’s wedding, but I decided to be responsible instead, save money and hang around London.  (I spent the day doing extremely tedious but necessary work, lest you think my entire existence consists of traveling and spas.  Only on alternate days.  We kid!)

I ended up having a (semi) royal experience of an entirely different kind: a friend dragged me to Harrods for a Brummel magazine party celebrating dashing explorer Tom Avery and his recent book To The End of the Earth, which chronicles his journey as the youngest Briton (and part of the fastest team ever) to reach the South Pole.  (Incidentally, Tom is also one of only 41 people to ever conquer both the South Pole and the North Pole.  Underachiever, that one.)

Lo and behold, who shows up 10 seconds after me but Kate Middleton’s younger sister Pippa Middleton!  (So we saw the Queen on Sunday and Pippa on Tuesday.  Might we garner a Wills ’n Kate run-in by Saturday?  Fingers crossed.)  Pippa was with a gorgeous, impeccably groomed blond guy, who I spotted even before she arrived.  (He was neither Charlie Gilkes, who she was rumored to be dating–though I’m not sure if it’s still on–nor Ali Spencer-Churchill, George Percy, Ed Horner, JJ Jardine Paterson, Sam Branson, nein, nein, nein…)  She wore an outfit that can only be described as classic prepster: fitted navy blazer, white knee-length cotton skirt, brown belt, navy loafers, gold aviator glasses perched on top of her head, and a single gold ring on her middle finger.  (Yes.  Clearly I was staring.) 

[For those who care about the other breathless details, she's surprisingly tall--I was standing about 6 inches behind her, and pegged her as at least 2 inches above my 5' 6"--and extremely, resolutely, very slender.  With the exception of too-heavily-rimmed eyes and a deep nut-brown tan that ages her, she's quite pretty and is exceedingly better-looking and cuter than in photos.]

Her friend waved her over, fetched her a glass of champagne, and together they listened quietly with the rest of the attendees as Tom recounted his survival stories, showed photos from his expeditions, and cracked jokes about getting lost in Antarctica and having to ask for directions.  (Did you know there’s a gift shop at the South Pole?  No, really.)  Pippa and her friend stayed for an entire hour on the edge of the small crowd, drinking champagne and nibbling canapes and waiting to leave until after the grand prize raffle was announced: a trip to the Verdura Golf Resort in Sicily, owned by hotelier Sir Rocco Forte, who I interviewed over cocktails last month. 

Then, with copies of Tom’s book tucked under their arms, they grabbed gift bags and slipped out the back door of Harrods onto Hans Road, setting off for whatever adventures might await the sister of the future Queen and a well-dressed blond toff on a cozy June night.

:Jazz-hands:  London!

Recently, I’ve been reading a fantastic book called Classy by Style.com Editor-at-Large Derek Blasberg.  Equally hilarious and instructive, Classy is an etiquette guide featuring “Exceptional Advice for the Extremely Modern Lady” with sections including “Say It, Don’t Sext It,” “The Educated Insult,” “Drink Up But Not Till You Fall Down,” and “Please, (Carefully) Take a Seat.”

Derek–who looks like a beefier, exceedingly more dapper James McAvoy–has been traveling all over the country promoting the book, and last week came to LA, where the Missoni store played host to bright young things including Kate Bosworth, Margarita Missoni, Nicole Richie, Malin Akermann, Mischa Barton, Cat Deeley, Peaches Geldof, Charlotte Ronson, Nicky Hilton, Tatiana Santo-Domingo and Dasha Zhukova.  (Yes, I too noted a few amusing persons on that guest list.)

The book–glossy and thin, much like the ladies it seeks to turn us all into–is a breezy, surprisingly well-written pleasure.  ”Ladies dress up their assets and cover their asses.  (Tramps, on the other hand, confuse their asses with their assets.)”  Much of the advice is tongue-in-cheek, but it’s also genuine, and genuinely helpful.

Call me pretentious and soft-headed, but I often wish our current world were gentler and more refined, like a beautiful, softly-lit Grace Kelly movie.  (Confession: a former roommate once accused me of only liking the pretty girls who came to “interview” for our spare bedroom.  My response: “What’s wrong with that?  We have to look at her every day!”) So, naff and bougie though it might be, I love anything that helps bring a little more elegance into the picture.  If you feel the same–you know who you are!–you’ll love Classy, too.

So, The Tinz got her own show?  What rock have I been living under?  Promos are everywhere, and I just spent 10 minutes breathlessly watching a slew of them on the CW site.

So.  Excited.

The show is a real-life Gossip Girl, chronicling the misadventures of Tinsley Mortimer (who really does rule the NYC roost), her sister Dabney Mercer, jetsetting hellraiser Jules Kirby, and a host of other characters, including the editor of the Hamptons magazine Social Life Devorah Rose (who is the show’s Blair to Tinsley’s Serena).

You may have your Jersey Shore…I’ll take misbehaving–but well-dressed and well-tressed!–socialites any day of the week.

Click here to watch a preview!