Hey people!

You should know by now that princes and princesses of the Upper East Side aren't frogs that are kissed, we're born into our beauty and riches. From the first yellow cashmere bunnies from FAO Schwartz to our first black TSE cardigans, we've always been royalty. Just like our parents before us were and our children after us will be until the end of time. Or at least until the end of Manhattan…and we always get our happy endings.

Such is the case with M and O. She's the illegitimate child of the legendary S and a mystery man spotted entering her townhouse 18 years ago, a secret so well kept that even I'm in the dark about it. M's just as striking as her mother with those haunting blue orbs that stop traffic and her effortlessly flawless curls…even if she didn't get the trademark pale blond except in tiny streaks. M belongs more on a movie screen than she does strutting along 5thAve. On the other hand O, her knight in shining armor, has no mystery in his regal blood. The son of the infamous Queen B and her almost runaway king N (You didn't actually expect B to let him sail off into the sunset without her long, did you?), he's just as lost and forlorn as his father was back in the day. And inheritance seems to have worked in his favor… he's got his mother's glossy dark strands in his shaggy hair and the little flecks of the infamous N shade of green in his chocolate brown eyes, and that perfectly white smile. Just like my mother before me fell for his father, I'm falling for innocent little O. And you know with me around he won't stay innocent for long. There are rumors for years that he's offered her his family ring last weekend at brunch, but don't believe it until you hear it here. After all I would never lie to you… Besides, this made-in-heaven couple may have bigger problems then you'd know…

Who's your daddy, M?

You've all heard the haters in the Constance hallways giggling about their 'brother/sister' relationship…could M really be the N's daughter? Well here's for hoping, but I doubt it. Even if N and S had tried to have another secret fling, don't you think B would have demanded a paternity test by now? Besides…how'd M end up brunette if she's the product of the two hottest blonds in Manhattan? My money's on either one-time almost boyfriend D or military-reformed C, S's bed had never had a waiting list. Then there's the rumor about A, B's vegan rockstar of a stepbrother. You know I love a mystery…

Speaking of that…

I'd like to break some news about a blond bombshell getting off a train at Grand Central Station. No, she's not the reincarnation of S herself−one surprise offspring was enough for that girl. Though I can see where the confusion is coming from, with those startling baby blues and those luscious locks…and it's been almost exactly twenty years after S stepped off the train from Connecticut and wreaked havoc on the city. Apparently she was arriving from an artist's community in Vermont where people make clothes out of hemp and live off each other. For those of you who haven't figured it out already, she's the surprisingly stunning daughter of tortured artist D and still bald V. Raised by her oddball aunt, she turned up in Brooklyn for no plausible reason. L's about in for a rude awakening, people don't play nice in the city little girl.

Sightings

S and M at the Plaza sipping Cosmos and giggling. O walking through Sheep Meadow and looking lonely…he always knows where to find me. J, C's well-groomed son, at the Elizabeth Arden Red Door Salon getting his roots touched up. A well-known music trio, let's call them J3, enrolling at St. Judes Prep…too bad its boys only. A and A, M's loyal followers, buying cheap Louis Vuitton knock-offs from a street vender. Don't those girls know I see everything? And little Lwalking alone in Williamsburg, an H&M coat wrapped tightly around her torso and a pale blue L.L. Bean duffel strung over her shoulder…at least she's not shopping at the Gap.

Well my little royals…

And all you frogs who are still hoping to turn, I don't know about you but I'm just gonna lean back and wait for people to spill. I'll be the first to know…and you know I can't keep a secret.

You know you love me,

Gossip girl