I Will Always Love You
Cecily Von Ziegesar
Love is like war： easy to begin but very hard to stop。
—H。 L。 Mencken
hey people！
ho； ho； ho！
’Tis the season to be jolly。 Fa la la la la； la la la la。 Don we now our gay apparel… which just so happens to have been made for us by the little elves at Givenchy or YSL or Oscar de la Renta。 Who are we； you ask？ The residents of Manhattan’s Golden Mile； of course—that glorious stretch of doorman buildings above Fifty…ninth Street and below Eighty…sixth。 It’s Christmastime； time to deck our sprawling Upper East Side penthouses with silver and gold baubles； twinkly lights； velvet bows； and chocolates imported from belle Paris。 Here the holidays are always a little more sparkly； a little brighter； a little better。 It’s so； so good to be back。
While I’m not about to tell you where I’ve been for the past few months； I will tell you that there is life after high school。 Yes； it finally happened： We went to college。 During the past semester we encountered people who haven’t seen us naked （yet）； and who don’t know our SAT scores； who don’t remember that time we wet our pants in kindergarten； or when we got our ears pierced。 We’ve learned a few new things； made a few new friends； and have even maybe met the loves our lives。 We’ve changed—hopefully for the better。 And we’re just as fabulous as always。
Take B； for instance。 She’s spending a perfect holiday with her perfect Yale boyfriend and his perfect family at their idyllic Vermont pound。 That girl always had her eye on the prize。 Speaking of prizes； what’s S up to these days？ No longer hounded by overeager； fashion…conscious Constance Billard girls； she’s now trailed by the paparazzi and a posse of wannabe movie starlets while she cools her Louboutins； waiting for her nomination for the SAG Awards。 No matter where she is or what she does； S will always be one to watch。
Then there are those who’ve tried their darnedest to change： N has been sailing around the world for the last four months。 But as we learned from Kant in our freshman seminars； no man is an island。 He’ll be back—sooner rather than later； we hope。 Then there’s D； scratching out existential poetry in his black Moleskine notebook in the Pacific Northwest。 It may look like a total lifestyle change； but he still insists on Folgers crystals instead of French press in the coffee capital of the U。S。 He also spends every waking moment Skyping his shaven…headed； ultra…independent filmmaker girlfriend； V； who’s at NYU and seems to almost have… hair。 And friends？！ And finally there’s C； last seen with a pack of flannel…wearing； log…lifting； very rugged boys out in Nevada or Montana or someplace with no cities and lots of cattle。 Is he into a new type； or has he gone through yet another reinvention？ That man puts Madonna to shame。
Mistletoe and New Year’s Eve are all about kissing； and something tells me there’s going to be lots and lots of kissing this break。 Lucky for you； I’ll be here to report everything worth reporting after the holiday lights are unplugged and the pretty velvet ribbons have been untied。 Let the reunion begin！
your e…mail
q： Dear Gossip Girl；
I’m visiting my great aunt in New York City for the holidays； and I heard that Serena van der Woodsen lives here and you know everything about her。 Are you her？ Oh my God； if you’re her； can you please send me an autograph？ Or maybe hang out？
—IheartSvW
a： Dear Iheart；
While I prefer to live my life outside the spotlight； according to my sources； your heroine’s out almost every night。 You should be able to find her if you know where to look。
—GG
q： Dear Gossip Girl；
My college dining hall only serves； like； deep…fried cheese balls and I may have gained some weight。 Should I celebrate NYE with my high school friends； or pretend I have the flu？
—HittingtheBuffet
a： Dear HtheB；
While I’m not a dietician or a therapist； I can definitely say you’re not alone。 My advice： How you look is all about how you pull it off。 Go out； wear your little black dress； and show off those curves。 No one will even notice those tater tot pounds。
—GG
sightings
B on a train from New Haven to Montpelier； Vermont； looking very out of place in a sea of multicolored plaid flannel。 S with three interchangeable anorexic dyed blond girls on the red carpet for a premiere。 V and some friends from NYU； including a very hot hipster teaching assistant； at a film party in Bushwick。 Is someone trying to get extra credit？ D and his little sister； J； splitting a plate of gooey chocolate…chip pancakes at one of those horribly crowded diners on upper Broadway。 C and his new horde of cowboy boot–clad dudes ordering Cokes at the lounge at Tribeca Star。 Should the hotel erect a hitching post？
still breaking all the rules
Technically you no longer live under your parents’ roof。 You’ve already indulged them with Scrabble and decorating gingerbread men that no one’s going to eat。 Now it’s time to party。 You can always reform after January 1st—that’s what New Year’s resolutions are for。 So go out； have fun； and show your former besties and former flames just how much better you’ve bee。
Besides； now that you know I’m watching； aren’t you just dying to put on a show？ Thought so。
You know you love me；
gossip girl
all b wants for christmas
“You awake； Scout？”
Blair Waldorf awoke from a nap to the sight of her boyfriend； Pete Carlson； gazing down at her。 Pete smiled his adorable； lopsided smile。 His eyes were ocean blue and framed by strawberry blond lashes； to match his thick； floppy head of hair。
Blair threw the Black Watch–plaid duvet to the foot of the couch and discreetly checked for drool with her index finger。 She loved being woken up by Pete； especially when he called her by an adorable nickname。 Currently； it was Scout； because she’d directed him and his three older brothers to the best Douglas fir Christmas tree； deep in the woods of the Carlsons’ expansive Woodstock； Vermont； estate。 Early this morning； they’d all opened presents underneath the magnificent tree。 Pete had given Blair a pair of navy blue…and…tan North Face hiking boots with the promise that he’d bring her on some of his favorite trails when it got warmer。 Blair had never been one for the great wide open； but Pete loved being outdoors； and suddenly the idea of sleeping under the stars with him at her side seemed almost romantic。
“Of course I’m awake；” Blair lied； sitting up and yawning。 It was only noon； but Pete’s adorable…but…hyper nieces and nephews had woken everyone up to open presents at the ungodly hour of 5 a。m。
“Good。” Pete settled next to her on the worn navy blue couch； tenderly pushing Blair’s long bangs off her foxlike face。 Her hair was a little shaggier than she liked； but she simply didn’t trust any of the hair salons in dingy New Haven。 Besides； what were unkempt bangs when she was with a guy who truly loved her？
“Have any dreams？ You were making these little growls in your sleep。 It was cute。” Pete pulled the woolen blanket off the floor and draped it over their legs。
“Oh。” Blair frowned。 She was growling？
In truth； she’d been having a lot of weird dreams lately。 Last night； she’d woken up and thought she was at a sleepover at her old best friend Serena van der Woodsen’s house； only to find herself all alone in the dark； regal guest bedroom of the Carlsons’ oversize colonial。
Maybe it was just homesickness。 After all； she didn’t have a home in New York anymore； she hadn’t seen Serena since August； and no one in her family was even in the U。S。 this week。 Her father； Harold； was celebrating Christmas in Provence with his boyfriend； Giles； and their adopted twins。 Her stepbrother； Aaron； was on a kibbutz in Israel。 Her mother； stepfather； brother； Tyler； and baby sister； Yale； had moved to LA back in August； to a gigantic； tacky Pacific Palisades mansion that they were making even bigger and tackier。 While the renovations were taking place； the four were traveling in the South Pacific； visiting the islands that Eleanor Rose； in a fit of pregnancy…induced mania last spring； had bought for each member of the family。 Blair had been