Memoirs and Monsters
So, look, apparently there was just a recent eclipse that provoked what my preferred online astrologer (CHANI, natch) described as “all sorts of hijinks,” both emotional and otherwise, so we’ll blame last week’s absence on that. Yes, I have a preferred online astrologer! That and overlapping(!) print deadlines. I know, wow, brag much? In a writer’s strike no less! (I’m not in the WGA, if that’s not clear. That said: I certainly stand with them! I have yet to read anything actually decent by AI.) We all hope that the studios will come to their senses, and soon. Apparently Netflix is the worst offender, should we all cancel Netflix? Maybe! After finishing The Diplomat there’s not much else I’m interested in on there at the moment anyway. It seems to be endless variations on the same unlucky-in-love reality shows that leave you feeling like you just binged on a bag of Doritos, i.e. slightly sick on lab-designed empty calories. Lately when I need a diversion I find myself leaning towards HBOMax and Apple TV+ and Peacock, which feels slightly more…substantive? Though, the latter, admittedly, is mostly that I must see this Vanderpump Rules #Scandoval through to the end! I’m in far too deep now. (Also I am intrigued by Dancing Queens, about competitive amateur ballroom dancers, which just premiered on Bravo…)
I picked up Joan Juliet Buck’s The Price of Illusion at the suggestion of my friend Shane and basically didn’t put it down until I finished it, which I now have, and am very sad it’s over. Beautiful, ruminative, funny, heartbreaking, really dishy. If they were a boldfaced name in London in the 60s, Rome and Milan in the 70s, Paris in the 80s and 90s, they probably turn up in this memoir, as a lover or scold or friend or amusement or terror or teacher or somewhere in between. (There are those who say all of the above are “teachers” and honestly, they’re right!) It should probably be required reading for anyone who has ever worked in or adjacent to fashion, especially fashion media, but I think anyone with a thing for beautiful writing, vaguely gothic childhoods, and misadventures in elegant settings would enjoy it, too. Really highly recommend.
Also, Buck grew up and remains great friends with the sublime Anjelica Huston, which gave me occasion to remember this really fun conversation I had with the latter about some new campaign or other back in 2014 for vogue.com. She was lots of fun, and I loved what she said about aging, though it’s funny to think of me in my early 20s asking to be soothed about aging.
I’m about half of the way through Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Dederer, which is a sort of treatise on what to do with all of the good art by bad people and so far it’s exceeded my expectations. I highly recommend if you, too, don’t know where to put your feelings about Woody Allen, Roman Polanski, Picasso, Miramax films, and the guys (and they’re really nearly always guys) who tell you to suck it up and get over it. The Guardian ran an excerpt on David Bowie that gives a good idea of what to expect from the book. I’d be curious to hear what you think.
In terms of good art by great people, just thinking about Amos and Boris by William Steig can reduce me to tears. So of course I loved this (from The New Yorker).
I’ve been watching Drops of God (Apple TV+). It’s this strange little stylish show about…wine tasting? Which, yes, is bizarre on its face, but it’s adapted from a popular manga, so bizarre works. The sets (in Tokyo and various French vineyards) are all very Aman resort, all of the actors are incredibly attractive (the lead looks like a young, French Jessica Chastain, for example), and the stakes are… the world’s largest wine collection! Which is to say, lots of money, and legacy, but not, you know, life or death. I don’t know about you but sometimes it’s nice when the stakes are low and the action is smoothly beautiful. Also there’s enough of a plot to keep you going, the episodes are doled out weekly, and I’ve been assured by some oenophiles that it’s on the money or close enough in terms of the various charms and traditions and occasionally eye-watering sums surrounding wine. It makes a nice preamble to Succession, actually, for reasons that become clear in the first episode.
Speaking of Succession: you’re welcome.
The Met Gala happened while I was on a train back to LA for a story that I’m currently working on. (The Pacific Surfliner! Really recommended for incomparable views, especially when the tracks aren’t washed out, which these days they often are, so check in advance.) This was the only red carpet discourse I particularly cared for.
Speaking of Vogue, one brilliant friend I met there, Julia Felsenthal, was interviewed about her paintings in the Provincetown Independent:
“I’m really interested that people come here to make paintings of water,” says Felsenthal. “I’m the one millionth person to do this, but everyone is different. You can’t hide how you do things. Paintings are manifestations of how you see things and what your hand is doing. Once you reach a certain point in your ability to make a painting, it becomes really clarifying that you can only make the painting you can make.”
The whole thing is full of gems like that!
And for those in New York this weekend, another friend and former colleague, Liana Satenstein, is hosting what appears to be the fashion sale of all fashion sales with Chloë Sevigny, Sally Singer, Lynn Yaeger and more on Sunday. If you can, please go and tell me all about it!
What have I bought recently? Well, I got home late from an event the other day and ended up buying 6 different HotJamn! fruit preserves on Etsy. I can’t be trusted with a phone, maybe. That said, they have since arrived and I have no regrets! Good on cheese, toast, marbled into baked goods, if you’re crafty, eaten off a spoon, if you’re not. (Guess which I am! Actually, don’t you dare.) The spicy farmers market pickles are also A+. Eventually I will make it to one of the coffee shops where she sells these insane looking cookies, but until then I will just send the drool-worthy instagrams of them to my friends.
I love this kind of story. Lots to chew on. (Ha, Ha. But really.)
Historically, I tend to travel in a New York Yankees hat for three reasons: I love New York, the logo is iconic, and typically people don’t try to talk to you when you wear one. (I have personally gathered data here to back me up: a Red Sox hat is asking for it, conversation-wise. Detroit, same. I tried to switch to a Dodgers hat after I moved to LA and couldn’t get off the plane without someone wanting to chat. The guy operating the jet bridge called me a “fake Dodgers fan” because the only player I knew was Mookie Betts. To be clear, people, conversation is not why I wear a baseball hat! Baseball hats are the “leave me alone please” of accessories, right after big opaque sunglasses!) Anyways Varsity Headwear solved the problem for me with a hat that seamlessly avoids further questioning beyond, maybe, “hey where’d you get that great hat.” And it’s not only in my favorite broken down Los Angeles avocado green, it has my initials on the back. Swoon. It also comes in navy and gray. Very good for spring/summer!
The reliably excellent Nathan Heller on what online journalism is, and could be, for the New Yorker.
In case you missed it, this was a good story about fashion’s fakes in NYT mag. Which led me to this fun little jaunt by Sally Iselin, on shopping in Paris in 1951 for The Atlantic: “I Bought a Dress in Paris.”
Have you heard about this “quiet luxury” trend?! It’s certainly very loud for something so purportedly subtle!! Anyways I wrote about it and a few actually timelessly stylish people and goods for C Magazine.
I enjoyed Mark Hammill’s Harrison Ford impression.
This is a good idea, now please make it cheap enough for Hugo and I to regularly use it: Dogs (and Cats) on a Plane (NYT)
Speaking of: A perfect newspaper front page? Maybe!
Thank heavens, The Other Two (HBOMax) is back. If you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favor and start at the beginning. Truly one of the funniest and most underrated shows on television.
Chanel came to town for their Cruise 23/24 show on Tuesday night and I, for one, was very pleased to see Snoop Dogg perform in a silk Chanel scarf, babushka-style. Bravo.
That’s all for this week. I’m leaving for London next week and then several other places before coming back home, but I suspect I’ll still write to you. Provided the stars don’t intervene again, of course. Thanks, as always, for being here. Don’t forget to call your mother on Sunday. Send her flowers if you can. See you next time!