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Lemonade by Post

September 29, 2015 in Spirit Matters, Style Matters

I had a perfectly awful day, full of low-grade aesthetic irritations like bleeding blisters from my allegedly sensible shoes and a rash from an exposed zipper and underpants whose elastic waistband snapped on the subway and two handsome younger men who “ma’am”ed me (I don’t care where or how you grew up, all women hate ma’am!) and the unhappy realization that, when it gets humid, my new haircut looks like Amadeus’ wig. By the time I got off the subway all I wanted to do was lie naked in a dark room with a glass of opium, er, wine.

Instead, I got lemonade in my mailbox. There, in lieu of bills, I found a beautifully festooned card sent, unbidden, by my favorite ten-year-old in all the land: Miss Luci Vanderpile, my most epistolary of goddaughters. I mean, there were scratch ‘n’ sniff stickers! And sparkly hedgehogs! When I finally brought myself to open the envelope (really, it was almost too pretty to disturb), it contained so many hand-printed treasures that I sat on my bed and wept grateful tears. All hail the magical healing powers of snail mail–and godfamily, of course. All hail godfamily.

Free Bird

September 16, 2015 in Age Matters, Feminist Matters, Style Matters

This morning as I comb out the bird’s nest that was once my Barbie locks and iron the nipped-in Mad Men dress I’m wearing on today’s show, I’m laughing, I really am. While out at the beach for a few weeks, I only washed my hair once, I never shaved anything, I didn’t put on deodorant, I never even brushed my hair. (My bun got more “bee-hivey” each day.) Sure, I brushed my teeth and took showers; hot water and clean teeth are wonderful. But I rarely put on lipstick–let alone clothes with a waist or, G-d forbid, a bra. It turns out that, at this ripe old age, a true vacation entails zero grooming or dolling up. I have reverted to my nine-year-old self–that tomboy in a smock dress and Converse sneakers–and it is glorious.

Venus in All Her Inglory

June 24, 2015 in Astro Matters, City Matters, Spirit Matters, Style Matters

It’s only Wednesday and already I consider this week a bust. Normally I would dismiss that attitude as the worst kind of negativity but there just have been so many hurt feelings and misunderstandings all around. I chalk it up to the shadow of Venus retrograde, which lasts three months, only takes place every few years, and governs unresolved mishegos in areas of relationships, money, and all things aesthetic. Expect old family conflicts to resurface, ex lovers to show up, long-simmering fights with partners to rear their ugly heads. Not to mention awkward haircuts, zits out of nowhere, and–o my–nothing in the closet. Goddess knows that’s all been true in my life lately.

Yesterday I found a favorite pair of earrings that had been long misplaced. I wore them all around town like a proud peacock and then promptly lost one on my walk from the gym to the L train. I combed 14th street three times in my search for it and, while doing so, ran into work colleagues. Naturally I was clad in sweaty spandex shorts, greasy pigtails, and a cut-up tee shirt announcing in neon yellow letters: I LOVE GERMAN GIRLS. I looked so professional I could cry. It goes without saying that the earring never turned up. On my way home I walked by some new graffiti that was so VR it made me smile though I felt for the artist’s angst. See above.

My advice, Sirenaders: take an extra deep breath before leaving the house and opening your trap, make no drastic changes to your appearance, home or relationships, and escape as soon as possible to the sea. Friday I’m heading to the relatively pristine waters of Long Beach, where I plan to smile a big oystery smile and offer a mermaid song of submission.La de da….

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy