This afternoon I met my good friend Constance in The Grill Room at the Four Seasons for luncheon. I had my usual, the Grilled Mediterranean-Spiced branzino with warm Farro Salad. The Branzino was cooked to perfection, as is customary, and Constance was having one of her better days. But all of that pleasure was for naught, because sitting at the next table was a social climber extroadinaire. I will not repeat the many fine New York names she crowed about with such shocking volume. I will only say this: Nothing so blatantly proclaims a woman climber as the repetition of prominent names, the owners of which she must have struggled to know. Otherwise, why so eagerly boast of the achievement? Nobody cares whom she knows—nobody that is, but a climber like herself. Climbers, please take heed and muzzle yourselves!