Has cocaine really lost its social stigma? Neel Shah does some sniffing around

Last June, the New York Times proclaimed that attitudes toward cocaine were evolving: "You could go into a swanky party in New York and do a line and nobody would notice." But is the city that never sleeps really that blasé about blow? To find out, we dispatched reporter Neel Shah—clad in his finest Club Monaco getup—to places swank (Graydon Carter's Waverly Inn) and pedestrian (Starbucks), armed with a baggie of confectioners' sugar and our lawyer's phone number. Here's what happened:

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Starbucks, Midtown
Scene: 3:15 p.m. A steady flow of corporate types in search of an afternoon pick-me-up.

Reaction: Baristas and patrons stare as I stand on line and snort away; shockingly, nobody says a word. I joke to a dandyish white male in his early thirties that at these prices he's better off doing blow than buying $4 grande café lattes. He laughs. I follow him to the milk station, where I offer him a plastic baggie. He says he'd love to indulge, but he's scheduled to deliver a presentation at his ad agency in 20 minutes.

SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE? Yes.

Photos by Stacey Pittman

The New York Public Library

Scene: 1:30 p.m. Law students, fifth-grade field-trippers, senior citizens surfin' the Net.


Reaction: A Filipino lady threatens to "punch me in the face" after I offer a young woman a bump to help her get through the final Harry Potter book. (She looks to be about 20, but, to my horror, turns out to be 15. The Filipino lady is her mother.) A trio of Asian students studying organic chemistry refuse to make eye contact with me as I sniffle loudly with powder all over my face. After two tense minutes, the female in the group glares at me and whispers something to her pals. Moments later, they pack up their books and flee.

SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE? No.

Photos by Stacey Pittman

The Waverly Inn, West Village

Scene: 10:00 p.m. Diane von Furstenberg and Jay McInerney hold court at separate tables.


Reaction: At the bar, a male sporting flip-flops and a goatee attempts to order a Stoli Red Bull. The bartender informs him that the Waverly stocks neither Stoli nor Red Bull. I tell him I have something that will do the trick, wink-wink. Spotting the baggie, he flashes me a broad smile. His Eurotrash girlfriend is less enthused. Later on, two servers catch me doing key bumps near the bathroom. They walk by without a second glance.

SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE? Uh...There's a reason they call it high society.


Photos by Stacey Pittman

This article is from the October issue of Radar magazine. Click here to get a risk-free issue.