Last week, I had to counsel my American friend Lauren X over the phone. She likes me to disguise her identity because she is big on the Manhattan charity and fashion scene and says her friends are terribly touchy about gossip. She was telling me how worried she is about some of the new-money girls in her set. Apparently, they may be falling victim to the vacillations of the financial markets.

Of course, no girl would ever admit to being a skint socialite, but Lauren says there are ways to spot the ones who are suffering.

“Girls are borrowing dresses, and especially jewels, instead of shopping for them. More of them are insisting that party organisers lay on a car service to save them money — they’re ruthless and even do it for charity events. All my girlfriends used to give their unwanted designer duds to the goodwill or to their maids, but now they are selling them on eBay or in consignment shops. And nobody wants to meet for a cocktail before a party — not when a Berry Bellini on the roof terrace at the Gramercy hotel costs $20.”

I was surprised she even knew the price. I don’t think Lauren has ever bought her own drink.

You have to feel sorry for her set. These girls have never really had to live in the real world. They think economising means flying first class rather than by private jet.

Of course, they will be desperate to keep up appearances while cutting back. Instead of leasing a house in the Hamptons for the traditional Memorial Day-to-Labor Day season, Lauren says that many are only going to be there for the month of July. She is particularly appalled by this. Lauren is the most poor-phobic person I have ever met. She thinks penury is catching and has a sensitive nose for bankruptcy. She just dropped a close friend who said: “Buenos Aries really does have a Parisian feel to it.” When you can’t afford Europe, you’re finished.

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