Title: Simply annoying.
Product review: To mimic a sentence structure that Mr. Epstein employs ad nauseum throughout his book, a perfect storm of smug vapidness, this. The author seems to think that he can innoculate himself against the charge of being a snob himself, by admitting to it once in a while. Fair enough. But it doesn't keep him from coming off as mean (as in his treatment of the author Phyllis Rose--how ironic that he would talk about her coming across as a snob in her wonderful memoir!) and judgemental (as in his treatment of vegetarians whom, and he annoyingly waffles on this one, he seems to conclude are a self-righteous lot who have made throwing dinner parties a nuisance).Mr. Epstein is at his worst when he goes on about his fascination with fashionable coats and cigarette lighters. Boring. And pitiable, really.Sorry, but Mr. Epstein's own glaring snobbery overshadows this book of warmed over observations on the subject.
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