A Knight to Remember
Thursday September 03, 2009 | Contributor: Jennifer Wright

I think that if you mention “Woodstock” to the buttoned-up summering-in-Southampton crowd, their first reaction might be to ask how plywood companies are doing on the Dow. By and large, this fabulous group doesn’t strike me as the sort who danced naked in the rain while Janis Joplin played. All that mud, after all, would wreak havoc on those penny loafers.





But this week, everyone had a chance to let their inner hippie groove at Castlestock 2009, a party hosted at Sir Ivan’s Castle. Not familiar with Sir Ivan? Oh, darling, you’ve been attending all the wrong parties. The full name of this musician/philanthropist is Sir Ivan L. Wilzig, and his 15,000-square-foot Water Mill estate is sometimes affectionately referred to as the Playboy Mansion of the East Coast. It proved the perfect venue to party like it’s 1969.


The event was a benefit for the host’s charity, the Peaceman Foundation, which combats hate crimes and assists sufferers of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Sir Ivan’s father was a Holocaust survivor and PTSD sufferer, who went on to amass a fortune in America. (At the request of President Carter, he served alongside Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel on the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Council.) Sir Ivan noted that he was particularly shaken this year by the shootings at the Holocaust Museum and sincerely feels that there is still a great need for groups that promote tolerance and understanding.





Guests certainly embraced the spirit of the event. The invitations specified flower power—but many went even further, arriving as fairies and forest sprites. I caught sight of Sir Ivan’s girlfriend, Mina Otsuka, flitting about in a winged fairy costume.  In fact, bikini-clad winged young ladies seemed to be everywhere. Social Life magazine’s Devorah Rose was also there, though somewhat more conservatively dressed than fellow partiers, in a floral strapless number.





The elaborate costumes and general ambiance inspired less sartorially progressive attendees to express their groovy leanings with descriptions fit for William S. Burroughs. One dear man, in a pink and green flowered shirt, described a woman he fancied as “moving like an underwater snow leopard.” Was that true? I have no idea, having never seen an underwater snow leopard! But I feel that at a less elaborately themed party—say, at the polo fields earlier that day—she probably would have just been “hot,” so the hippie-aspirant deserves points for trying.





By the end of the evening, guests were stripping naked to, well, I suppose, truly get into the spirit of Woodstock. Or simply to shed those wings, which looked rather heavy. Too bad Janis and Jimi could only be there in spirit.





Peace and love, baby. Peace and love.


Pictures by Adriel Reboh