Patrick Kinross, (1904-1976) [Patrick Balfour, 3rd Baron Kinross], is one of the Fourteen Friends in the diarist James Lees-Milne's book of that title (London: John Murray 1976).  Patrick

"was conspicuously one of the Bright Young People.  He went to every party and participated in every escapade that raised eyebrows and infuriated the remnants of the pre-1914 generation.  Elizabeth Pelly (the first girl to wear shingled hair), Elizabeth Ponsonby ('in leopard skins') and Brenda Dean Paul, addicted to drink and drugs, were among his intimates.  Always amused by the vagaries, quirks and conceits of the privileged among whom he moved, he cultivated an air of cynicism and mocking disillusion." (J L-M, p. 107)

Patrick was not especially handsome and had very little money but was personable and charming and heir to a peerage which helped, and he knew everyone.  Not surprisingly he also shows up in the pages of the previously referenced Double Exposure, Lady Furness's memoir co-written with her sister Gloria Morgan Vanderbilt. 

I am once again sorting my books, culling the collection -- weeding -- which is my wont from time to time.  I have, for instance, a nearly complete run of "Grand Street," a quarterly journal edited by Ben Sonnenberg which is, alas, no more, dating from an era when I too, (somewhat but not exactly like Patrick), went to parties and participated in escapades that raised eyebrows, so there is nostalgia involved.  Some of my favorite writers appear in its pages: Arthur Danto, Tom Disch, Padgett Powell, James Merrill, James Salter, Amy Clampitt, Amy Hempel, and yes, even Christopher Hitchens and William F. Buckley, Jr.  They are, with a couple obvious exceptions, like old friends to me now.  I don't think I have the heart to part with them.  A shelf of "Grand Street" is a kind of memento mori, reminding me of places (the West Village) and times (the 80s) long gone, or else going fast.

For instance, remember Jackson Square?  I rest my case.