Every Sunday I read the “By the Book” column that appears in the New York Time’s Book Review section. The one-page Q&A asks important writers and artists about their reading habits.
I’m always astonished — and intimidated — by the titles and quantity of the books the interviewees rattle off. I just hope I never get a call from the editors of the column asking what I’m reading now.
Clutter is a popular magazine topic. I wanted to write about it in a fresh way. I wanted to address the guilt that comes from getting rid of personal objects and family heirlooms. So I wrote the essay as if I were Judge Judy.
I found a local plastic surgeon that was offering surgery for what he termed “Cell Phone Face.” | It’s a result of looking down so often.
In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Fashion Week in New York City. The world’s leading designers — Marc Jacobs, Prada, Chanel, Armani, Calvin Klein, Lagerfeld, you name them — are in town to show off their new collections.
According to the media, the well- dressed woman this spring will be wearing bold patterns in stripes, checks, polka dots and animal prints. As for sportswear, look for short suits, tweed jackets, maxi dresses, ’60s silhouettes and sheer panels. The hot colors: Deep red and beachy turquoises.
I was at an outdoor mall the other night with a friend and his college-age nephew. We were on our way to see a movie, walking down a street that’s only for pedestrians. Canned yuletide music was playing. “I can’t stand it,” I complained. “I don’t want to hear music when I’m outside. Bad enough I have to hear Christmas songs inside every store and supermarket and when I’m on hold on the phone.”
“You’re such a curmudgeon,” the nephew said to me.