Alice Out East: A Wet Hot American Summer Recap
A weekend full of fast friends and fast-acting mushrooms. đ“ŤŠđ“‹Ľđ“ŤŠđ“‹Ľđ“ŤŠ
By Ali Royals
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I am not an influencer. I am just a Regular Girl™. And yet here I am on the train to the Hamptons—which is so egregiously packed that I have to sit perched atop my suitcase for the three hours it takes to roll into the Easthampton station. I’m shipping out to Alice’s Wet Hot American Summer Hamptons Takeover: a 10-day summer celebration of presence, relaxation, and fun with the mushroom chocolates to match.
At the Southampton mansion, Amalia and Lily greet me on the patio, whisk me past tables dotted with Vacation sunscreen and a pyramid of Cocomo, the pool glittering like a perfectly rectangular lake on the infinite expanse of the lawn, the periwinkle hydrangeas glossed over with dew. We could’ve put Wimbledon to shame in all our outfits from two : minds— striped Sporty & Rich sets, Nike x Jacquemus collab tops, fresh white sneakers circling the courts. It’s the most beautiful tennis camp I’ve ever seen—the only problem being: I can’t play tennis.
“This chocolate is hitting me hard,” says Alice co-founder Charlotte Cruze as Lindsay Goodstein, Charlotte’s co-founder counterpart and current tennis partner, zips across the court to return a short shot from her husband.
Tins of Alice Chocolate—Brainstorm, Nightcap, Happy Ending—line the shelves of a sleek surfboard situated next to a platter of perfect fluffy rectangles of PB&J, cold glasses of lemonade and rosé, and Alice-chocolate-covered bananas. Brittani offers me a square of Brainstorm as I watch The Extremely French Tennis Pro from Sag Love Tennis run guests through a gauntlet of King of the Court, crowning and dethroning doubles partners with each serve.
I’m finally brave enough to pick up a racquet (for more than just aesthetic purposes) when the Brainstorm Chocolate kicks in and the rain starts to fall—the sky cracking open like an oyster and sending everyone sprinting for cover under the shingled porch. Miraculously, I only make a partial fool of myself, twirling in the torrential downpour as my doubles partner and I lob the ball back across the net.
On Saturday, Harry, Abby, Brittani, and I roll up to a dirt road guarded by a man with an earpiece clad in all black. We traipse down a rocky path and across the freshly watered (and soon-to-be-muddied) albeit perfectly manicured lawn.
Through the back gate, girls draped in crochet and boys dripping with chlorine drift through the backyard. Under the mild influence of the energy chocolates, which promote a peaceful sense of focus, clarity, and presence, it’s remarkable how present everyone truly is. Girls twist in front of the DJ booth in crepey leopard slips and silk bandanas, popping perfect squares of Desire chocolates into their open mouths. Boys in sopping wet Alice tees dominate the wet t-shirt contest, whirling around on the mechanical bull, heads tilted up toward the sparkling sky. Next to the Quit with Jones cart, the Jolie team is shucking oysters pulled straight from For Pond Bay, strings of kelp still clinging to their craggy shells.
Alice has always been good at meeting people where they are, integrating seamlessly into the world around them. It’s an almost adaptogenic take on marketing: naturally appearing in all the places their people love.
After Harry falls in the pool trying to do summer’s beloved Apple dance, we all follow suit, paddling around on the CocoMo surfboard and sipping rosé in the hot tub. Horses and hydrangeas dot the fields, the sun casting a Saltburn glow over every smiling face.
When we finally pull ourselves from that crystal stretch of chlorine, Charlotte packs us into the back of an Uber. We set out for Montauk Yacht Club (still slightly soaked from our swim), where Anderson .Paak is DJing using a live brass band instead of the filter effect to transition from song to song. We sip martinis and spin around the dancefloor til the party’s over.
On our journey back to Journey we’re so tired from the day we don’t even need to slip pillowy squares of Nightcap chocolate under our tongues. Instead, we’re lulled by the rush of the highway at the end of the world, dreaming of what beautiful tricks Alice has planned up their sleeve next.