Unbelievable. Self-appointed cocktail party-hostess expert Sally Quinn managed to schedule her son’s wedding in DC on the same day as her husband’s granddaughter’s wedding in California. Then she used the Washington Post’s Style Section to defend herself and tell us it doesn’t matter because (essentially) the two sides of the family can’t stand each other and she and Ben Sr. were never going to California for that lousy granddaughter’s wedding anyway. Oh, and she takes all the blame for the irrelevant scheduling conflict except that the real fault lies with her husband who failed to follow her instructions to put the first wedding on the calendar. What happened? Well, aside from everyone hating each other and her stupid husband’s oversight, her son’s Georgetown yoga instructor fiancée got knocked up and they wanted to move up the wedding for appearances sake (which reminds me about the whole ineffectiveness of that approach when mother publishes the plan in the Washington Post).
All of this led to much derision.
Former Post reporter Tim Page described Quinn’s column in the comments section on the Post’s website as “the worst piece ever printed in Style,” while inside the Post, one staffer summed up what the newsroom consensus of the piece: “total joke.”
I don’t know about that. For me, the Washington Post’s demise wouldn’t be complete without it deciding to publish the most sordid and banal details of Ben Bradlee’s stupid life.
It’s odd about Bradlee – as far as I understand, he is a highly respected newspaperman of the old guard (i.e. from a time when those institutions still maintained a certain level of intellectual integrity). He was Woodward and Bernstein’s editor after all, handpicked by Katherine Graham. But his wife is one of the worst examples of Beltway insularity around, and of the pathetic joke much of his profession has become.
Are you looking to get a job at HuffPo or something? Not sure why else anyone would care enough about wealthy socialite villagers to even talk about such irrelevant tripe.
You want to drive a stake through Versailles? Sally Quinn is the queen bee. If you take her down, Versailles crumbles.
Sally Quinn, Mo Dowd, who cares? I mean really.
Funniest article I’ve read in ages. Sally Quinn tries to make everything right by
1) publicizing the bride’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy!
2) publicizing the bride’s 1st trimester pregnancy!
3) claiming credit for buying the bride’s wedding dress!
4) acknowledging her mistake of trusting BEN BRADLEY to follow-through on trivial record-keeping!
Can she please get a job with the RNC?
I always tell them to dish out gossip in the guise of an apology and then wish them the best. That’ll get them talking.
This is good. As the worst piece ever, could it be worse than her oeuvre on the Obamas? The family tension assails the reader. I hope her husband’s granddaughter publishes her side of the story soon, maybe in Vanity Fair.
In case there was any doubt why the Obamas won’t come to her parties…
Airing the wealthy’s dirty laundry. Didn’t they go after Truman Capote for doing that?
Wow, she really needs to get a facebook account for this crap.
what a petty petty bitch.
Next up: the Post will publish photos of the Queen’s bowel movements, so that the commoners will be able to ascertain the state of her health.
Gee, Sally, being classy sure means something different than it used to. Maybe urinating on your family in print including your aging husband is the new noblesse oblige. But then, publishing brainless drivel is the new objective journalism, so, hey! – anything goes!