All that glitters is not gold: behind the glamour of the Hamptons

Our plan to spend a holiday in the Hamptons is becoming increasingly unfeasible: daunting health risks, exorbitant costs, deplorable working conditions and, last but not least, the risk of ending up in a scenario reminiscent of the American version of Alberto Sordi’s "La camera", with Giacinto and Erminia on the Costa Smeralda.

In the picturesque towns of Southampton, Bridgehampton, East Hampton, Sag Harbor, Sagaponack, Wainscott, Amagansett and Montauk, it is now impossible to enjoy a lawn; the deer tick is lurking, and its bite can cause chronic neurological disorders, such as those suffered by Bella Hadid and Justin Bieber. As for the cost of living, in 2026 it is predicted that at least 120 villas will be sold for more than $10 million. Particularly on Meadow Lane in Southampton – also known as ‘Billionaires’ Lane’ – billionaires outnumber millionaires. So a coffee costs $13, a tennis lesson $250, and avocado toast $37. If you wish to observe the whales migrate and stroll along the most famous beaches – Egypt, Cooper’s, Georgica and Two Mile Hollow – you will have to forget about driving there. You need a permit to park, which is issued only to villa owners and tenants. Summer passes are available, but they cost $750 and are already sold out by February. All that remains is to people-watch the regulars, now obsessed with sun cream. To protect themselves from the dreaded UVA and UVB rays, they wander about bundled up like beekeepers, completely covered in Loro Piana or the more affordable Cucinelli, topped with straw hats as wide as satellite dishes. Let’s suppose, however, that we manage to get by spending a week in the Hamptons through a combination of ploys and free stays: the guilt remains, nonetheless. How can one pretend not to see the immense chain of exploitation underpinning the perfectly trimmed hedges, the maintenance of the shingled roofs, the lobster salad at the Red Horse Market? The villas, the manicured lawns, the walls of hydrangeas and viburnums, are entrusted to squads of gardeners. Springs, in East Hampton—which once counted Jackson Pollock, Lou Reed and Willem de Kooning among its residents—is now the place where Latino immigrants, mostly from Guatemala, live crammed into rooms and basements for $1,000 a head a month. Gardeners and even ‘scullery maids’ (sic), often undocumented. As well as facing exploitation by their employers (the average wage is $10 an hour), they also live in constant fear of ICE raids. In winter, when work dries up and they cannot afford the rent, many move into tents in the snow-covered woods of Bridgehampton. They devote themselves to so-called ‘hedge couture’. That is, padding and lining ornamental plants and hedges with jute sacks cut to size and then hand-sewn on the spot, so that the cold does not damage the cell walls of the leaves. In practice, the plants are sheltered, whilst the workers live in the freezing cold in camps under plastic sheeting. Latinos now make up a quarter of the local population of East Hampton. Finally, for all these reasons, it seems that the Hudson River valley (the one in Woodstock, to be clear) is now considered far more chic. After all, when the former editor of "Vanity Fair", Graydon Carter, founded the glossy "Air Mail", he gave his contributors a never-ending list of words banned for being kitsch: "The Hamptons" was at the top of the list.