Everyone Knows the Hamptons Are Dead

I know where it went!

You already know.

You’ve known for at least three summers. The $38 avocado toast at a place that used to be a gas station. The Instagram girls blocking the entrance to the one shop that was still good. Parking that costs more than dinner in any real city on earth.

The Hamptons are dead. Not dying — dead. The conversation moved on. I’m here to tell you where it went.

Montauk. Killed the moment it got a SoulCycle. The surf is mediocre. The restaurants are cosplaying as restaurants. Go to Rincon if you actually surf.

Sag Harbor. The bookish charm has been replaced by hedge fund wives competing over the better table at Sen. It’s Greenwich with sand.

Any restaurant that announced itself on Instagram before it had a menu. If the branding deck came before the wine list, skip it.

Tulum. Including this for completeness. It’s been dead so long it’s archaeological.

I won’t tell you where to go. I will tell you where to stop going — and let you figure out the rest. Unless you subscribe. Then I tell you everything. — C.o.L.o.