Okay, folks, I’ve had enough of the inquiries about whether or not I am the woman behind the anonymous “Scenestress” column that runs weekly in the Creative Loafing newspaper. She’s not even that anonymous, for crying out loud; the clever author-girl’s ID is well-known among the scenester circles of SRQ society. But still — for those of you who keep asking — it’s NOT ME!!

I am NOT a scenestress! — not that there’s anything wrong with being one … . 😉

photo courtesy of CL website

I finally realized I have to address the issue when I went to a first-time meeting with someone last week and for about the twentieth time in recent weeks, almost the first question out of the mouth was “So, you’re the Scenestress, aren’t you?!” I said no, but was not believed — and the person asked twice, skeptically, “Really?” I had to insist. (Even though it’s kind of hard to believe (though oddly flattering in a way) that anyone would think I had such an scha-winging nightlife and such a hipster personality … .)

So, enough insisting. Here’s the evidence to support my claim:

Proof #1. The Scenestress is so obviously hip and cool and funny and au courant with the latest hipster vernacular, and on top of all that, she’s totally plugged in to the other scenesters on the scene in Sarasota.

I, on the other hand, am hippy as opposed to hip; the only cool I possess is in my last name; I try, and fail miserably, with humor (witness this column which I’m sure most folks will take entirely too seriously); and I’m so-hopelessly-unconnected I can’t get invited to the opening of a garage door in this town. Wah.

Proof #2. The Serene & Sexy Scenestress is so obviously in the good graces of the erstwhile and current editors at Creative Loafing. The mysterious Scenestress is published weekly while my column has steadfastly been refused even a biweekly frequency by the editors; I lag woefully behind the Scenetress with my once-monthly appearances. Wah.

And, I am so totally NOT in the good graces of the editors at CL. Why, when I recently wrote to the new editor, Brian Ries, congratulating him on his new position taken over from Cooper Levey Baker, I didn’t even warrant a “thanks for the good thoughts” return email. Didn’t get a “looking forward to working with you” even. Not even get a “Nah, we’re not going to use it,” message about the column I submitted along with my greetings. Nothing. Nada. And I know him. I’ve met him. We’ve exchanged pleasantries. And still I get nuttin’. Wah. Wah.

Proof #3: The Sublime & Scintillating Scenestress always gets that super cool black-out photo of her, um, profile that runs with her column. While I, with my Face Reality column — they often cut out my actual face! Saying it’s for um, “space issues”. Hey, maybe if I put a veil over half my face, — or maybe if I struck a come-hither, upside-down, lying in repose pose like the Sex In the Suburb’s columnist Theresa Rose — they’d run my pic every time too! I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: Wah. Wah. Wah.

Proof # 4. And lastly, the undeniable proof that I am not the Scenestress is that she is much kinder than I in her definition of who and what constitutes the “intelligentsia” of our fair city. While I, ghastly curmudgeon that I am, didn’t think anyone in this town even knew such a word existed.

Schooled once again by the Scenestress and now, to add to my chagrin, I have to face the reality (get it?) that not only am I out of the loop socially and professionally (i.e., with CL editor), I evidently am on the outside looking in when it comes to the smart set too.

Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.