Guest Essay: The S@#t I’ve Heard in the Hamptons

Editor’s Note: We met author Michael J. Norton at East Hampton Library’s Authors Night on Aug. 8, where he was signing his popular book, The S@#t I’ve Heard at Yoga. A woman at the book fair bought 16 copies for her friends! We thought it would be fun for Michael to write about “The S@#t I’ve Heard in the Hamptons” for Spark Hamptons — and wouldn’t you know, he was all ears. (And it didn’t take him long to craft this essay. Impressive.) We are new Michael J. Norton fans. You can meet Michael at a book signing and conversation on Thursday, Aug. 20, from 5:30 to 7 p.m. at WAVE Social Wellness. RSVP here. Enjoy.

The S@#t I’ve Heard in the Hamptons

Like a Seinfeld character, I’m known as “the low talker” among friends; people often assume I trained to be in the CIA.

I’m not a fan of loud anything. However, now and then, if I’m at Jack’s Coffee, Carissa’s The Bakery, Round Swamp or Sag General Store, I don’t mind hearing a bit of a loud-talker’s conversation if it’s interesting. And by interesting, I mean ridiculous, absurd snippets of dialogue, of which there are plenty to be heard Out East.

If I have to meet with someone to discuss anything that resembles business, I always opt for breakfast at Sant Ambroeus. One morning, a woman who had cast herself as the center of attention among her tennis-ready friends announced to the table of four:

“I’m so glad Round Swamp stopped putting prices on things. We actually play The Price Is Right when we get back home.”

In any other setting, in any other moment, her Real Housewives performance style would have irritated me into a foul mood, but instead, with that comment, I reverse-snorted coffee up into my nasal passages.

Whenever I take my French bulldog, Cookie, to Sag Harbor, she drags me to the pet store on Bay Street. Passing by GOOP, there was a woman with a Commeford shopping bag strolling with a friend. I salivate the minute I step inside the Commeford Collection, so I turned up my ears to hear what she had to say:

“Has anyone actually seen Gwyneth Paltrow in the wild? We all know she’s out here but no one has ever said they’ve seen her. Alec Baldwin. Yes. Christie Brinkley. Yes. Neil Patrick Harris. Yes. But Gwyneth? Never.”

Recently, I was heading to my car after picking up Yesteryear at Sea Dragon Books in Amagansett. There was a young guy walking with his new girlfriend. I could tell the relationship was new because she was still interested in what he had to say. This may have been their first “weekend getaway” together because he noted:

“Every store we go into sells jam. How much jam do these people eat?”

She responds with real interest, “Maybe it’s some kind of new Hamptons diet?”

They had clearly just come from Jamagansett, which I have to admit, is a great name.

I’ve been living Out East for 11 years. With ears wide open, I am constantly entertained:

“Alec Baldwin is the new Cher. He keeps saying he’s going to leave the Hamptons just like Cher keeps saying she’s going to retire.”

“Sag Harbor is like Montauk for baby boomers.”

“If you live out here full time, you’re either a real estate agent or a yoga teacher.”

Some of the best stuff I heard has been at yoga. In fact, I wrote a book about it: The S@#t I’ve Heard at Yoga. Every chapter is titled with a line of dialogue I heard in class, in the parking lot or having coffee with my fellow yogis after class.

The title might make you think it’s a jokey bathroom book, but it’s not. People tell me they laugh out loud, but they also quote many of the transformative yogi-isms:

“Quiet the squirrels running around in your head.”

“Every time you judge yourself you just break your own heart.”

“Do something that scares you.”

The book is a love letter to yoga and how it made calm my new superpower, which I rely on while I await my turn in line to pick up parmesan-crusted chicken schnitzel cutlets at Loaves & Fishes.

I love laughing at our absurdities, but I cherish the people who, under the shiny veneer of luxury, make this place a brilliant place to call home. Like the young guy who, after Sweat & Surrender yoga class, declared, “I want to be Andy-happy!” talking about Andy Cohen.

Don’t we all want to be Andy-happy?

Sometimes, people say s@#t that makes me smile inside and out.

BTW — there’s one place I never hear anything: The James Perse Store on Newtown in East Hampton. People are very quiet in that store. They walk through the door and their energy level shifts. The muted colors and kiss of cashmere seemingly induce a Zen-like stupor. Customers soften their pace with a miraculous osmosis of calm. You can’t hear a word anyone says. Like me, they all become low-talkers. But I assume — no, I know — everyone is thinking the same thing, “How many shades of greige do I need?”

Michael J. Norton is the author of The S@#t I’ve Heard at Yoga, a series of comic essays that reads like a kaleidoscope of anecdotal memoir, cultural commentary and a little bit of DIY therapy. The book is the story of his reluctant evolution from a Type A cynic to a Type Y (yogi).

He will be in conversation and signing his book at WAVE Social Wellness on Thursday, Aug. 20, from 5:30 to 7 p.m. RSVP here (under ‘Events’).

Michael is a dedicated — albeit wobbly — yogi. Michael’s theory: If everyone were required to practice yoga, we’d have a lot less s@#t to deal with in the world.

heardatyoga.com