Woo hoo! Story on Nymag.com

If you can't celebrate accomplishments on your own blog, where can you? I've been copyediting for Nymag.com (New York mag's Website) for months and thinking, "I could write something along those lines." It's just been a matter of coming up with ideas, and I've pitched a few things that didn't quite pan out.

This morning, though, I proposed an idea that the editor liked, and by the afternoon, my story was posted on the 'Daily Intel' blog. Just the pace of Online versus print is boggling.

Read the story here. It's on the ever-important topic of megayachts, naturally.

It's happening

When I moved to the LES I knew I'd probably watch it change - it's one of those neighborhoods that has a nice mix of longtime residents (the "real" people), plus hipsters and young professionals. Which means on the same street you can likely buy a $15 cocktail and a $2 hot dog. Until recently, that is.

Thanksgiving week, both the Clinton Papaya on the corner, purveyor of hangover-busting egg sandwiches, and Mama's, two doors down, peddlers of morning cheeriness and $4 breakfast deals, both closed their doors. Since it happened at the same time I thought maybe rats? But worse than rats, rising rent. Nymag.com just confirmed that Papaya is closed for good (R.I.P.), and Mama's might revive, as I stuck my head in there the other morning and the guy informed me they were closed and changing management. So we'll see.

The lovely man who runs the convenience store across the street (no longer open 24 hours, as its sign still advertises) tells me times are tough. He's worried about next month and the month after, he said, and I think the world - as we know it, for now - may be ending. Last weekend, Bergdorf's, at up to 70 percent off, saw its elegant corridors trod by the parka-clad in a bargain-basement frenzy, with steeply slashed luxury goods tossed higgledy-piggledy, Louboutins flung thither and missing their mates. And Henri Bendel, that nattily French-monikered purveyor of not-cheap novelties for the posh set had its entire store on sale for a day last week.
In an apocalyptic reverie I snapped a pic:



I maintained the hope that my shopping experience would be interrupted by some stock-market scheudenfrauder sweeping in with a giant checkbook to buy the whole place with a single flourish of his pen.
But nobody has that kind of money right now. And I have no more cheap breakfast.

What's next? Will Tiffany start holding fundraiser "Breakfasts At" for tourists and tacky people? Will all of lower Manhattan become a John Varvatos store?

Internet-famous!

An interview on Ganda's food blog, Eat Drink One Woman, here.

I don't give a sh*t about celebrities

Oh wait - is that Adrian Grenier over there? I'll be right back.

La vida fabulosa in New York, I've discovered, is even more Technicolor than in other places. And that's not just because we have the best bars, the best restaurants, the best clothes and the best parties of anywhere, but because every now and then (more frequently, if you're kind of a big deal) you find yourself sharing space with a living, breathing, fun-having celebrity. And that's exciting.

In almost seven months I've encountered the following people in the flesh:

Sheryl Crow - slim in skintight ensemble; walking through the West Village one summer night.

Christian Siriano - at a Wednesday-night launch party for some men's dress-shirt company at Pink Elephant; pouting and trying to look pretty.

Courtney Cox, David Arquette, Jennifer Aniston and Ben Harper - at the launch party of their clothing line during fashion week, for which Irish is the fit model. I stood thi***s close to Ben Harper while Irish and others chatted, and was utterly tongue-tied.
Robb Thomas - later on at the Spotted Pig at an after-party midnight supper for 20 celebrating David Arquette's birthday. We discussed the hilarity of unisex bathrooms.

Adrian Grenier - Dancing up front to Phenomenal Handclap Band at an Adidas party in a former parking garage in Brooklyn. Swoon!

Fiona Apple - behind the bar at KGB during boyfriend (as it later came out) Jonathan Ames' insanely crowded reading. I remarked, "That bartender really looks like Fiona Apple in her 'Tidal' years." Wonder why.
In person, she's miniscule and exageratedly cute, with huge eyes.

I'm probably forgetting somebody, but it's a good list. I'm not one to get star-struck or super intimidated by those who are famous - I don't care about writing celeb news or reading People or US Weekly. The cool thing about sharing space with famous faces is that you know that these people with practically unlimited means and access have chosen to be in the same place you have. And that means wherever you are is likely one of the best places to be at the moment. That always makes me feel good.

Any celeb-encounter stories to share?

The Holidays Descend

The other day I caught the piney whiff of Christmas trees on Avenue A. Earlier, bad Christmas music blared from my falafel shop's speakers. The fruit-and-vegetable magnificence of the greenmarket in Union Square has been taken over by a mess of booths selling holiday junk no one needs. And on Wednesday, the line at the Trader Joe's wine store was this long:



The holidays are here.

On Wednesday, ventured out post-Dr. appointment to buy the makings for lasagna and a veggie tray for our Thanksgiving potluck. Dr.'s office is at Union Square, so I hit the greenmarket, which teemed with the holidazzled buying vegetables and wreaths and bacon that, at $12 a package, better truly be "the world's best bacon."

I bought kale, since the chard was done for the year, and beets in two colors, and I felt happy and grinned at everyone like a cartoon loon.

Then to Trader Joe's, which is too small here to begin with and always packed. I fended and fought those in the queue just to get cheese and the line took so long by the time I left it was getting dark. Then home, which I was late to, as Sabra had hired a photographer for us. Not hired, exactly - a Craigslist thing. She took our pictures as part of a series on those who are new to New York and someday she's going to make us/we're going to make her famous. We hope. She was a neat girl named Deidre Shoo and she knew what she was doing with a camera. Afterwards we all went to a bar in Brooklyn and drank some free rum punch. We hope to see her again soon.

I never made it to yoga that night, but it didn't matter because I was happy. Adam Rio was there, and we ordered pizza with leeks and sausage and Deidre became our friend, and on the walk home I had talked to my mom, and I felt loved. Later that night people came over and then we all went to see Labyrinth (what, what, Molly!), my childhood favorite, which was as good as I remembered and - as an adult - also hilarious.
It was the best Thanksgiving eve ever.

And then the next day I woke up late and Sabra did too and then I did some online stuff and then we cooked.
And soon it was 5 pm and we scrambled to get out the door and on the subway and over the river and through the hood to Aaron Goodman's place, which is a cottage in Brooklyn that used to be a carriage house. It's a miniature house, and I was enchanted to see it for the first time.

Aaron Goodman made prime rib and sweet potato pie and artichoke dip and pita and Joel made Chilaquiles and Sabra made mashed potatoes and Stovetop stuffing and Eric Alger made a veggie pie and Adam Rio brought a pecan pie and I made lasagna and chopped some veggies and brought hummus, and so we feasted. It was a gay boys' Thanksgiving, plus Sabra and me, and I took two hits of a joint and spent the rest of the night laughing and sleeping, rousing myself when necessary for trivia. I remembered I don't really like to smoke pot. And then we ate more and then it was time to leave.

By then it already felt like we'd been holiday-ing it forever, so yesterday I did a bunch of errands and then people came over and then we went out to a burlesque show. It was great - and only five dollars. No Box , sure, but also easy to get into, down the block and cheap. And then today woke up and was a layabout for hours - listening to music and such. I'm getting into new bands with the help of Last.fm - trying to expand my musical tastes. So far I've discovered I'm a fan of Television, a genre called the "Nouvelle Scene Francaise," and lots of old-school soul and rock 'n roll. I also recently was introduced to Beirut and I absolutely love them. And Aaron made me a soul mix, which he brought over last night, so it's new music extravaganza around here.

Tonight stayed in as was tired and feeling like I'd been doing the weekend thing for days. Caught up on my "New York" magazine and listened to music. Nice sometimes to keep it low-key. Pacing myself, perhaps, for the holiday hurricane to come.

Cold coming

The cold has come and it's apparent to me now what it truly means to live in a pedestrian city. There's no rushing to the car and bathing in the heater's emissions once there; you want something, you bundle up and go get it on foot. I guess some people have the same revelation here with the heat in summer, but I don't mind heat, actually, so this is only now sinking in.

It's been good this week, though, because I've had a reason to venture out each afternoon, and it was brilliantly sunny most of the week, so if I bundled properly I enjoyed it. The venturing was part of a new project -- a food-writing gig chronicling restaurants in downtown and lower Manhattan. My first beat was an area I soon realized was basically Chinatown (East Chinatown, they call it), so the challenge was to pop into every place and figure out what made one Chinese bakery different from the next.

I really enjoyed it at first, and was reveling in all the bargains I learned of (sandwiches for 70 cents! beef and rice for $2!) but as I got deeper into the neighborhood, people became less and less open to talking to me. No matter how friendly and non-threatening I tried to be, at many places employees would clam up suspiciously and become loathe to give me any information about the restaurant. "I'm a reporter," I might say, "there's no charge," but many people would just clam up, tell me the boss wasn't there or that they didn't speak English and their eyes would implore me expectantly to please vanish. It was dramatically different going to the four or five Vietnamese restaurants in the area - these places had reviews from the papers and Yelp and Citysearch posted and seemed happy at the prospect of further press. I soon realized something cultural was going on at the Chinese places, and I had to wonder if it has to do with the lack of a free press in China, and consequently not really having a place from which to relate to what I was doing. At one closet-sized dumpling shop, the woman gave me as much information as she could with limited English, but seemed reluctant. Her coworker then asked whether I was planning to open my own Chinese restaurant! I had to laugh. No, I said, I'm happy just to eat at them.

Sometimes people laughed at me (I never did get the joke), and at one spot a young Chinese-American kid who was ordering takeout was nice enough to translate my requests into Mandarin, and whatever he told the restaurant owner and cooks made them laugh and laugh. I sort of chortled along (the situation was comical), but I never will figure out exactly what was so funny. Somebody who did speak Mandarin would have been better for the gig - I may as well have been trying to report on a foreign country with zero language ability and no translator - but I'll do my best to accurately summarize each place. The menus, though - and my boss wants comprehensive ones - that may be impossible. Many places didn't even have menus posted in English...

At any rate, it's cold and maybe tomorrow - or soon! - I need to go scarf and hat and sweater shopping. Like everyone, I've really pared back on buying things, but this is necessary. Hopefully retail will see a slight spike as people stock up for the winter. It needs it.

The things we find here

Last time, I wrote about the idea that everybody in New York is seeking the life that's just around the corner. I don't know that I'm so much seeking that - not yet. Day-to-day existence here is still a novelty and a joy, even if it sometimes is a pain. For now I'm happy with what's here, what I happen across. I'm learning every day, and I take this life as it presents itself and Iove the whole experience.

The thing I seem to have found, without even looking for it, is some part of my personality that hadn't been as visible before. I'm bossier since arriving here. I'm stronger and more assertive. I'm more confident, I walk fast. I flirt more. I don't take bullshit from people, and sometimes I come across as demanding.
I like it.

The other day, Sabra and I went to the East Village to pick up the futon we were buying for our living room. I knew a car service that would send a Suburban, so I called them once we go to the guy's apartment, and I guess I used a very authoritative tone with the dispatcher, who was trying to rush me off the phone.

"Do you work in fashion?" the guy asked, when I hung up. Not in a mean way, but very matter-of-fact.
I stared at him astonished for a moment (I was wearing ratty moving clothes and no makeup) and then told him that, in fact, I sort of did.

"Oh, he said," because I know lots of people in fashion and they're always ordering car services to come pick up this and that."

"I've just adopted a bossy New York demeanor since I moved here," I told him.

And yet, like many New Yorkers, I'm bossy and can be brusque in crowds, and at other times when it's necessary to assert myself, but talk to me one-on-one and I'm as friendly and down-to-earth as can be. That's how so many people are here - you've got to demand to get many things, but if you talk to people directly they go out of their way to be nice.

I think it has something to do with this: we're united by our willingness to put up with place, both tyrannical and wondrous, and our love for it - our willingness to sacrifice for that love - unites us. It's as though we were the multiple wives of a charismatic, mercurial man, and we were all alike (despite our rivalries) by the way we loved him in spite of ourselves. That's the feeling you get in New York.

So I like this new me. I may finally be living up to my fiery Aries nature. I never thought I fit the stubborn, take-charge Aries profile, but I think maybe I had just stifled it beneath the good-girl behavior I learned so well.

It's not about being mean, it's just about asking for what you want and telling people, in a reasonable way, when you're not happy with something. I find this tactic rarely has negative results. When you're merely asking for what you want or stating how you feel, no one can really argue. And people respect you more for your cojones. I'm glad to be here, finding mine.