Lily Pulitzer, J. McLaughlin, CK Bradley.

The chipper labels of the quintessential East Coast WASP, that white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant, may have nothing to do with your world.

But chances are your wardrobe owes some allegiance to WASP culture, even if you don't recognize it. Anyone who dons an Abercrombie & Fitch polo, a J.Crew relaxed-fit chino or Ralph Lauren sundress is paying silent tribute to WASP-hood.

It's a bit uncouth, of course, to dissect the world of those button-down folks, the clan that has always lived on windswept New England estates and gone to Harvard and joined clubs based on whether their ancestors made passage on the Mayflower or merely fought in the Revolutionary War.

But a new book gives one license to do so. So let's get jiggy with it, shall we?

Susanna Salk has authored "Celebrating WASP Style, A Privileged Life" (Assouline, $40), a fun romp - well, more like a well-behaved tour - through the laws and living rooms of the upper crust.

"It had to look insider-y," said Salk, sitting in a model condo at Epic Residences and Hotel in downtown Miami recently, for a book release party. "I didn't want it to be filled with just pink and green whales."

Salk knows her whales, all right.

Born Susanna Hodges, she hails from Essex, Mass., and attended boarding school at Milton Academy before graduating from Vassar. Today Salk is special projects editor at House & Garden and a screenwriter.

She was listed in the Social Register until 1991, when she wrote to the Register in a postpartum rage over how children's names appeared next to those of their fathers, not the women who birthed them.

Behold the perils of brashness in high society: Salk's name thereafter disappeared from the Register's hallowed pages.

Bitter, she ain't. "There's something cheerful and jaunty about the WASP," says Salk, tall, blond and so polite that she sent this writer a thank-you note by e-mail for attending the party - Oy! What breeding!

"They live in a very privileged world where they don't have to worry about things like health insurance very often," she said.

Salk sounds nostalgic about her precious childhood summers spent at Manchester-by-the-Sea. But even before the introduction is over, she has established her street cred by revealing she married a Jew and felt as comfortable in his family home as her own.

Suzie, you're OK by us.

Now down to business: We know all about tennis whites, duck boots, gin and tonic, CZ Guest and George Plimpton.

But a well-stocked garden shed? Dog hair in an old Volvo? "Sorry" volleyed back and forth during a tennis match? A group of guys on the beach - along with a pack of unleashed dogs, de rigueur?

These are a people, apparently, who distain creature comforts like pool furniture. Yes, pool furniture.

"In a WASP home, there are no flashy brands or electronics," writes Salk, who lives with her family in Connecticut. "Little time is spent admiring, tinkering, or maintaining the domain; there are too many walks to be taken, sports to be played, and good books to read."

The book has some delightfully smug moments: "The Haigney family, at their summer home in Newport, look wonderfully stylish, from polos to pearls," one caption reads.

You might think Salk had to do plenty of sucking up to spiffy New England families to get them to hand over their family albums. But only if you don't understand the unshakable confidence that the WASP gene affords.

"The most WASP-ish ones could not have given me photos enough," Salk said at the Miami event, whose attendees ran notably short of CK Bradley totes and Nantucket Reds pants from Murray's Toggery Shop.

Salk wasn't sure that her friends would love the book. "After it came out, that's when I thought I'd get the backlash."

But a funny thing happened after publication: No nastiness.

"They thought it was hilarious."

Of course, tinsel town celebrities have replaced white-glove socialities in America's pantheon of elites. Hedge fund managers are scooping up the old family compounds.

Maybe Salk's celebration of WASP-dom was just the pick-me-up the group needed.

"People loved it," she said.

It must feel good, finally having a place at the table.