Whenever there’s a holiday approaching, television networks like to trot out a particular kind of film. Typically there’s a feisty women – either single or divorced – who falls in love with a widower, the most sympathetic of all the male character types. A divorced man or confirmed bachelor is imbued with potential problems, but a widower is a good man capable of great love. What could be simpler? Continue Reading
Will someone please explain to me why–and this is not a rhetorical question–smoke alarm batteries always fail in the middle of the night?
Yesterday morning I was snuggled in bed, dreaming I had a bag of delicious fruit-and-cheese-filled pastries, I’d baked, to get the attention of a handsome movie star. (Side-note: Although I am allergic to wheat, I am certain I could have eaten these with absolutely no ill-effects.) I was also certain that my delectables would seal the deal, and I would win his affections.
As if to put a punctuation mark on that thought, the smoke alarm outside the bedroom door went off!
I must have slipped back into dreamtime immediately, because I saw myself fetch my broom, turn it toward the ceiling, and with a swing that would do any polo-player proud, I whacked that little white dome clean off the ceiling. Trailing all of it’s wires like a tiny electronic octopus, it flew straight through the dining room window and out into the night!
I remember my satisfaction upon seeing the starburst-shaped hole in the window, the glowing full Moon right in front of me, and feeling the burst of fresh, cool air. I thought, “I’ll clean the glass in the morning. Now I can go back to sleep.”
Minutes later, on the second chirp, I put the pillow over my head. By the third chirp, my sweetheart, who can sleep through anything if he sleeps on his “good ear,” was also wide awake. I turned to him, “Do you think this will wake them?” as I pointed upstairs to our noisy neighbors. “I hope so,” he dead-panned.
Here it was, 4:30 am and maintenance didn’t open till 8:00. We rose, brewed some coffee, tried to replace the batteries ourselves and surprisingly, couldn’t. So we put in earplugs and sat at the kitchen table in our bathrobes, drinking coffee as if this were an everyday occurrence.
I was writing and enjoying my second cup of coffee, no longer grumbling, when the alarm inexplicably stopped chirping.
Wait… I think I just answered my own question… Smoke alarms go off in the middle of the night because God needs a good laugh!
It was August, 1969. I was married to Adam Linter who managed a club called The Salvation, on 1 Sheridan Square in New York City’s West Village. I used to go there early in the evening to dance. One night Jimi Hendricks was there, all by himself, just tuning his guitar. No one else was there. He saw me and sang a minute of “Foxy Lady,” then took off his wristband and gave it to me. It was animal skin. Continue Reading
At an estate sale recently, a large baggie filled with yellow corn-on-the-cob holders caught my eye. The price was $1 and out of curiosity, I opened the baggie to see exactly how many corn picks you got for that kind of money.
There were 66 pair of corn-on-the-cob holders, and I admit being surprised. Why so many? I mean, they come in packs of eight or twelve. So twelve times, these corn fiends plunked down money at the store for a gadget that gets used four months of the year. Are they Rotarians in charge of the annual Pig Roast? Do their grandchildren use them as swords in Barbie doll wars? Do they have acreage in Iowa? Continue Reading
Last week my husband and I went to a Blood, Sweat and Tears concert with friends we’ve known for over 35 years. Yes, Blood, Sweat and Tears’s 50th Anniversary tour. Does that make you feel old? It did me. It was held at a small concert venue that seated 300 people. When we walked in, my hubby said “Good grief. This is a Geezer Fest.” The average age of the audience was at least 60. Yep, I’m a geezer now. But it was one of the most fun evenings I’ve had in a long time.
Whether you’re acquiring art and objects for pure enjoyment or with an eye for investment; to begin a collection or as a profession, it’s important to make informed decisions. Along with being VP of Heritage Auction House and part of Antiques Roadshow since it’s U.S. inception, I’m also an adjunct professor at New York’s Parsons School of Design. If you’re interested, beginning January 25 through April 1, I’m teaching a nine-week online course in “APPRAISING AND SOURCING ART AND OBJECTS.”
It’s an introduction to the professional appraisal of Western decorative arts and interior design from the 18th century to the modern era.
I was doing some end-of-year organizing in my office when I noticed a small, worn book that carried a big punch. Nestled among more contemporary works from John Maxwell and Malcolm Gladwell was a bestseller from 30 years ago, with advice that surpasses all the gurus of success. With a fresh cup of coffee, I set aside my busyness and read the entire book. Continue Reading
Usually I like that I’m a solopreneur who works from home. The commute is great. I don’t need to put on eyeliner–unless I want to–and my co-workers are rarely annoying. But this time of year I miss being in an office. I miss the afternoon run for holiday coffees. I miss seeing what gifts my coworkers are ordering online. Mostly I miss the annual holiday lunch. Continue Reading
Refinery29, a site for Millennial women, published three stories this week that flew all over me. The first one called out actress, Hilary Duff, and her boyfriend, Jason Walsh, for wearing modest, but “racist” Pilgrim and American Indian Halloween costumes. The next story was a slideshow of “The 11 Best Sex Toys for Your Halloween Costume” and featured small vibrators to hide in your crotch while trick-or-treating. The third story was Kylie Jenner’s Halloween costume: assless leather chaps and a string bikini top, “Very Dirty… Perfection.”
I’m the antithesis of a prude, and this is not a political post, merely an observation about a culture that’s lost it’s grip on critical thinking skills.
I met all these wonderful people simply by choosing the right profession for myself as a makeup artist. The first photo is me and Keith Richards on a boat in Antigua, 1981. I was there with his family. Continue Reading