Palm Beach 1969: “The Gilded Hurricane”
Introducing: Calista Beauregard DeVere, of Charleston, South Carolina
The Shiny Sheet headline read like a gunshot in the drawing rooms of Worth Avenue:
"Bay Breeze Heiress Makes Waves in Palm Beach: Meet Calista Beauregard DeVere"
She stepped off the private jet in white linen and pearls, the scent of gardenias trailing behind her like a warning. Her hair, a curtain of icy blonde, caught the breeze just so—carefully careless. Every inch of her spoke of old Charleston money: the kind that was made on deep-water ports and kept in houses with names instead of numbers.
Calista Beauregard DeVere had arrived.
Calista.
The name alone caused pearls to clutch and martinis to rattle.
Daughter of the South Carolina shipping magnate Judson Beauregard DeVere III, Calista was debutante royalty with a scandalous streak. She grew up sipping mint juleps on wraparound porches, practicing charm school smiles while overhearing whispers about bourbon-fueled affairs and business dealings that may or may not have started wars. Her mother, a former Miss Magnolia Queen, had once been quoted saying, "A Southern woman never runs… but she always arrives.”
And now Calista had arrived in Palm Beach—on a mission.
She had read about Margaret Jewel Holt Evans in the Shiny Sheet from her chaise lounge on Sullivan’s Island.
“She looks… safe,” Calista had drawled, sipping her spritzer.
And Calista didn’t believe in safe.
She was interested in spectacle.
And she didn’t want a seat at Margaret’s table.
She wanted the whole damn ballroom.
Chapter 1: "Magnolias and Machinations"
SHOP MARGARET'S LOOK: Sloane Peony Pink Stripe Cotton Midi Dress, Blissful Days Pink Stone Gold Textured Drop Earrings, Finding Paradise Ivory Bamboo Handle Woven Handbag, Every Step Counts Ivory Faux Leather High Heel Sandals
Margaret was already planning the most important event of the season: the Palm Beach Beach Ball.
Calista, watching from the wings, made her move with all the grace of a woman who knew exactly where to stab a knife so it wouldn’t bleed out too fast. She started small—charity brunches with avant-garde themes, guest lists that mysteriously overlapped with Margaret’s, and subtle shade served in sugary tones:
“Oh, Margaret's events are so classic. Like a monogrammed hanky... you know, comforting but a little bit dusty.”
SHOP CALISTA'S LOOK: Go Your Own Way White Embroidered Eyelet Mini Shift Dress, Standing Tall Gold Rhinestone Flamingo Feather Earrings, Every Step Counts Natural Tan Raffia High Heel Sandals
Then came the buzz: Calista was planning something called The Seaside Rebellion—a competing event on the same night as Margaret’s ball. Less “black tie,” more “barefoot luxury.” She hired DJs from Mykonos, flew in chefs from Napa, and commissioned a champagne tower shaped like a conch shell. The tagline?
“Old money is tired. Let’s wake her up.”
