Everything is motivated selfishly in this universe and that is as it should be. Thus we have growth, expansion. You think not selfishly? Altruism is done to feel good isn’t it? Feeling good or better is the whole point.
Feeling low in spirit, abandoned by my lover, my self-esteem had croaked. I took off for New York’s Fashion Week, September 4th - 12th. What a kick! How delicious to just adorn oneself, then show up, admiration streaming my way and the electric satisfaction I feel lavished on me by new friendships. The whole world is gay at Fashion Week, like candy before breakfast and geared to every sort of sexual attraction. I sure missed mine.
The honey sweet of life can be consummated in rags but not this trip. I succumbed to a rally of excess. The Algonquin Hotel treated me like their queen cat, which incidentally they have in residence, Matilda is her name. She strides the pale white mosaic floors in the lobby, is more famous than I, and is only responsive to touch by the more familiar hands at the hotel.
Tracy Reese, A-plus, a designer of color showing at Bryant Park. It was a tittering mob scene, a noon gala. Girls, girls, girls and my darling escort, Patrick McDonald, bedecked in Paul Smith London high style. Seated in the front row across from me was the latest American Idol winner. Six foot, seven inches Andre Leon Tally of impeccable memory and sartorial pizzazz.
A cameraman wanting to know why my feet looked more like Godzilla’s than faerie-fanciful. I haven’t worn heels for eight years, nor has my friend Jane Fonda. You can’t hide at Fashion Week. I was pictured in the New York Times, the News, Post, New York Magazine, Star, web sites and web lows, in a white gossamer gown at the Van Cleef and Arpels’ 100th Anniversary party. With everyone else dressed oh so safe in black, I was reluctant to tell anyone I had designed this dress as well as 80% of my wardrobe, not the thing to do when you are among the best of the best. The glamorous Arpels’ party made me realize what a home town girl I was. The inner star in me bubbled to the top all evening, entranced by models standing in frozen vignettes dripping diamonds, a crush of Wall Street and Park Avenue desirables. There was, on 34th Street, a bewitching luminescence to the Hammerstein ballroom that made each man and woman king of the walk. The thundering music pumped blood into the most sensual part of the nervous system. Nothing could dim the pleasure of that evening. On stage, a montage filmscape of Paris, enlivened by more models dripping in diamonds in a pantomimed fashion show. This was climaxed by eight dancing girls from the Lido, naked of course.
I saw two Broadway shows: “Chicago”, and “Xanadu”, disappointing, and missed a third, “Jersey Boys”. It was more fun to dine with friends.
Now what?
(At home) And on the telly, fear and war, fear and war. Like fighting parents, this makes the public avoid politics and opt for less normal social behavior. We tire of the consequences of our Bush-ed misjudgment, careen carelessly into extreme opinions on matters; then overeat to hide shame from anxiety. Where goeth America? Is that why dog shows are so fun to watch. Excess is out front and center. Most people are feeling lost these days. What’s normal anymore? Not me, you, the family. I’m inclined to answer to my own guidance system, vanquish loss and see this world as just a fine place to be. Why not? Health is better that way.
The divine Carol Channing was my dinner companion at the Magic Castle in Hollywood. Oh, yes, she’s a star, great to the core, shining love inside and out. She connects to people with a kind of personalized resource that enhances and embellishes her famous story telling at the same time she acutely listens to external responses. She blends the whole endeavor with her crackling voice and a doting way of leaning her heart, full lips and shoulders toward the recipient. She takes you in. Her ego likes to be partnered. She’s a dolly, first class showmanship with a young four-year marriage to her childhood sweetheart, Harry Kullijian. Together they are climbing the mountain toward returning the arts into public schools. Good luck! Class by class she will do it. Love wins because it influences longest.
- first posted at julienewmar.com Sep 21, 2007
