Design of a Decade

It was decadent at times, tragic at others, but all in all pretty magical. Lessons were never in short supply, I realize, as we head into this final year of the naughts. (An illuminating New Yorker Talk of the Town piece this past week underscored my decision to use the "correct" terminology, e.g. not "aughts", for the decade spanning 2001-2010.)

Anyway, looking forward to actually living those lessons. Happy New Year everyone!

I'm Watchin' That Oxygen, He Watchin' ESPN

"Bestest" verse by a female MC in '09 is Nicki Minaj on "Bed Rock". Granted, she didn't have much in the way of competition, but she did Barbies everywhere proud. [Laughs]

So Lame

First time I came across the term "landsman" was years ago while reading the Joyce Maynard memoir of her relationship with reclusive J.D. Salinger.

The "Catcher in the Rye" author said he'd read then-18-year-old Maynard's 1972 manifesto about her generation and knew immediately they were landsmen.

Etymologically speaking, it comes from the word for a fellow Jew who hails from the same town or district, usually in Eastern Europe.

I like to think of blogger Amit, the boy genius (above) from Tenn., behind Lame Basics as one of my landsman - only he's so much cooler than me [laughs] and I've told him as much.

When he's not filling out grad school applications, he's documenting his wares aka "lame basics", excavating old Japanese films, or bigging up his girl, Jane, who fashion heads will know from Sea of Shoes.

Getting Free

As another year comes to a close, do you find yourself taking stock? Assessing the ledger of your goals to see how they measure up against your accomplishments? Well, how'd you do??

Maybe you vowed to adhere to clean eating (three squares + plenty of water, fruits, and vegetables), but instead found yourself either under-eating to the point of obsession, or over-eating to the point of numbness.

Or perhaps you were going to write that graphic novel-introduce yourself to the cute guy on the L train-save for a rainy day-take a chance on love-apply to grad school-pay off your Henri Bendel bill-recommit to your spiritual practice-spend more time with your family-watch less reality TV and more public broadcasting-be more fearless...all in the name of getting free.

If you're in the black, I salute you! But if you came up short, no need to wallow: May I recommend Miss Alicia Keys's The Element of Freedom, a disc that is as introspective as it is soulful, as you regroup?

Every day presents another chance to get it right.

'Add as Friend'

It might not seem that way given the proliferation of social media, but friendship is a choice, not an obligation.

Women tend to bungle this. How often have you found yourself holding onto a friendship way past its "sell by" because you felt guilty about letting go or because of some tenuous ties?

I've also been on the receiving end of irrational devotion from mere acquaintances. Ever experienced this? Girls, in particular, who'll create an imaginary bond with you based on what they believe is common ground?

On inspection, you couldn't be more Granny Smith and Florida Citrus.

I used to be absolutely gripped by residual Catholic school guilt, feeling like I owed anyone who sought it - my friendship.

Which is not to say that we shouldn't make every effort to be good to people in general, but who we choose to "friend" in life becomes a reflection of who we are.

A Single Man

Saw A Single Man at the very retro City Cinemas Paris Theatre @ 58th Street. Director Tom Ford, the sartorial powerhouse who revived the flagging Gucci empire in the late '90s, proves that creative energy should never be stifled as he makes the transition from fashion to film.

The film is so stunningly shot; it lingers, but never indulgently so. And the men from costume to physique - are beautiful (Hello, Matthew Goode).

Colin Firth, in a defining role (forget all the bumbling Bridget Jones stuff), is extraordinary as the grieving 40-something English professor at a small California college in the early 1960s.


Admittedly, I've never actually seen a cinematic depiction of two men in love. But the film based on Christopher Isherwood's novel of the same name presents it as a story about just...love. (Above, a shot from the set, and movie poster)

Opens nationwide Dec. 25

Season's Greetings

Hands down, my favorite time of year. This weekend the powder was plentiful. Nothing like a blizzard to slow us down. Did you cue up DVDs and sip egg nog varietals? (My actress friend V decided the show must go on, so we all celebrated her B'Day on Saturday in the Slope; couldn't have been better)

Like a Simmons Whipping Pastry

E! channel viewers can keep up with the fame-loving Kardashians, but we'll ride with the Simmons sisters, Vanessa and Angela, rap royalty. (Above, a shot from the most recent Honeymag.com cover.)

I Love Gottino: Rustic Dining in the Village

Dined last week at Gottino, a narrow Italian wine bar/gastropub in the West Village.

The small plate menu felt very Top Chef (laughs). Although I was ravenous, I tried to channel the table manners of judge Padma Lakshmi.

My faves were a triangle of kunick cheese with cranberry beans, seasonal heirloom apples stuffed with pork sausage, and a jar of salt-cured cod with toasts.

Like the Singing Coming Off The Drums

Nothing like verse to kick off a busy week, right?

You wake up with morning breath - I wake up with poems on the lips. (Chuckles)

I discovered Sonia and a gaggle of black poets when I was 16, 17. Because we were never exposed to them in school, and my father's taste ran to Kiplng and Yeats, I'd grown up believing black folk had abandoned meter after Langston Hughes.

Here is what I woke up reciting in my head:

I dreamt I was tangoing with
you, you held me so close
we were like the singing coming off the drums.
you made me squeeze muscles
lean back on the sound
of corpuscles sliding in blood.
i heard my thighs singing.

-"Dancing" by Sonia Sanchez

Brooklyn, Thy Name is Beauty

Willoughby. Hoyt-Schermerhorn. Nostrand. Marcy.

I walk those avenues and their names sing to me! Although I came to life in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, I came of age in a Caribbean hamlet in Queens and on verdant Long Island.

Maybe I left something in BK (laughs)?

I suppose I still ain't found what I'm looking for, but I seek...

A recent jaunt to Fulton landed me at Restoration Plaza, where the newly opened Live To Change Something Through Art exhibit pulls into sharp focus the Brooklyn Arts movement.

Highlighting the curatorial arm of Nakeisha Gumbs (under the aegis of Coup d'Etat Arts Collective), the exhibit bowed with a mid-afternoon bash of beautiful art and beautiful people. Intricate woodcuts, collage, oils...

Kings and Queens - and I don't mean the counties - loom large in this show: For instance, Brooklyn MCs Big Daddy Kane (the original Smooth Operator) and the late Big get their due in imaginative ways.

And Livingroom Johnston's anthropomorphic Elephants (kings of a different variety?) are downright sexy and made me laugh out loud.

(Above, image by unstoppable lensman Kwesi Abbensetts. Through February 21, 2010. Skylight Gallery, 1368 Fulton St., Bklyn, NY)

The Voodoo That You Do

He may not have R&B heartthrob looks but I looove Mario's voice. When he sings to me, I've been "Thinking About You" all night, I believe him. (Laughs)

This Baltimore native drew up the venetian blinds on his troubled upbringing in an MTV special not long ago, confronting his heroin-addicted mother on-camera.

When a man rolls you up a beautiful love song and laces it with his pain, his hardship, there are just no ceilings on what it can arouse in you.

D'Angelo had mastered this quality. The Virginia native and 90s neo-soul pioneer dropped his sophomore album, Voodoo, in 2000, only to be felled by a heroin addiction of his own and general industry drama.

The Soulquarians did damage on this introspective, conceptual disc and too few fans grasped it ("The Root", "One Mo' 'Gin", "Greatdayndamornin").

Voodoo is a throwback album made the way an artist used to make an LP - by immersing one's self. At Electric Lady Studios D'Angelo called forth hougans and mambos. Maybe the spirits were too much.

Once Bitten...Team Jacob

I'm a shameless fan of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight saga. Sure, she writes like a 7th grader, but she gets to the essence of adolescent desire like nobody's business.

Fangs and pangs.

No self-help guru has to tell a 16-year-old girl to live in the moment: She lives emphatically in the present. With every glance, kiss, word, her temperature changes. And Meyer's books, and the films adapted from them, capture those mercurial feelings.

So I'd forced my friend J to see Twilight with me, and laughed so hard. But I got it. This is pure fantasy fulfilled. The blood-thirsty, Shakespeare-reciting, rock-star beautiful Edward Cullen denying the carnal urge to do what comes most naturally to him - all in the name of love.

The intense battle is writ large on his face; a clenched fist; eyes darting. In the end, he contents himself...to watch her sleep. (Awww, right, lol?)

So I was all dona sangre until I saw New Moon, which left me drooling over this shirtless pack of Native American wolves, with backstory to boot.

Original Book Club Selection

OMG! Eighties baby girls know the Scholastic series The Baby-sitter's Club was required reading. I think I was reading an item on Jezebel when I came across a mention of the titles. I ordered and read every single one of these books when they came out, as did my friends. We had like "serious" discussions about Kristy and the crew; wasn't even about the babysitting, but all the boy drama and neighborhood capers, lol. Oh, the age of innocence.