Very Bossy Pants

Here's an old joke about feminists and about Feminism:

Q - "How many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?"

A - "One. And that's NOT funny".

I was reminded of this, after reading Sheryl Sandberg's rather strident, self serious book "Lean In". And then again this week, watching her somewhat joyless YouTube infomercial featuring among others, Condoleezza Rice and Beyonce.

"Ban Bossy - I'm not Bossy. I'm the Boss" #banbossy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dynbzMlCcw

Here's my problem, have us feminists lost our funny bone as well as the rib?

Consider this old advertising adage: "Funny sells. As long as the audience smiles, they buy".

You see, it's too easy for a closed minded audience, already feeling defensive, to completely dismiss the tone of an earnest school m'am. But warm them up, make them laugh, make your point while their guard is down - Ah, now you're opening them up to a dialogue.

Case in point - back in April 2011, Tina Fey published a hilarious memoir "Bossy pants", which included the tag line "You're nobody until somebody calls you Bossy".

On the very first page: "If you are a woman and you bought this book for practical tips on how to make it in the male-dominated workplace, here they are: No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly. (Some people say "Never let them see you cry". I say, if you're so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone). When choosing sexual partners, remember: Talent is not transmittable. Also, don't eat diet food in meetings". 

So the question is this. Though feminist issues are serious, which tone of voice makes the message more palatable, easily digested and ultimately understood?

I know I'm listening to Tina...

Smarty Pants

How gorgeous does Emma Watson look in this photo? Well cut jacket and cigarette pants; the perfect white shirt; metallic clutch; simple black stiletto pumps; hair up; red lipstick. I mean, come on people! 

Her confidence and intelligence shine through - so smart and so stylish. 

And to think, only a few years ago she was saying this?

And only a few years further back she looked like this....

Tropical therapy in a cold climate

I am so happy. The climate is warm and steamy and tropical, and the sunlight streams through the glass roof as I deeply inhale the fragrance of a multitude of colorful, exotic flowers. Latin American music plays softly in the background, and children run and laugh as they push past me.

I'm on a mini vacation - Heaven on Earth. And what do the locals call this fantastical paradise?

And only 15 minutes drive from my house? The Bronx.

The Orchid show at the New York Botanical Gardens #orchidNYBG is open now until April 21st.

$20 entrance fee, and no passport needed. 

Now, I'm no flower expert, far from it. In fact, most plants that enter my care do not tend to make it.

But anyone, including me, can appreciate the beauty of an orchid.

And there were certainly lots of different specimens to admire - in fact 30,000 different known varieties of orchids exist. 

Here are just a few that I took photos of today, using my trusty iPhone:

The Moth with stripes; the Moth with spots; the Pansy; the Asian Corsage; the Slipper: and the Rainbow varieties.

I could've stayed there all week, and I would have too - I was so comfortable, lounging in my deck chair, sipping on my daiquiri - but the security guards had other ideas....

                     

Fantasy Dinner Guest #1

Have you ever played that game and imagined your perfect fantasy dinner party guest list - dead or alive - and who would be on it? You haven't? Well play along anyway - as first on my list is always Isabella Blow. 1958 - 2007.

I'd call her "Issy" - as she was known to her friends. As any diva would, she'd arrive late, dressed in a crazy, flamboyant, fantastic couture dress -  an outrageous Alexander McQueen, of course, accessorized with a super impractical hat by Philip Treacy (having access to their most current collections), which she wouldn't take off as we sat down to eat.

In her haughty English accent, she'd tell the most amazing and fabulous stories about her life as a British fashion editor - all about the London; Milan; Paris collections; and photo shoots with the most famous photographers, like Steven Meisel, and the models whose careers she launched, like Stella Tennant and Sophie Dahl.

We'd all have a rip roaring good time and everyone would be laughing along as she related her bawdy

stories. She'd be laughing like a drain as she told them, swearing like a sailor and drinking like one too. I imagine towards the end the evening, there'd be dancing on the table and her baring her boobs, as girls in the upper classes are want to do. But all the other guests would totally adore her and forgive her eccentric behavior - even if she did spill soup in their laps or knock over the red wine, or poke their eyes out with her hat.

Issy would be the last to leave the party - maybe even stay for a hearty English breakfast of bacon and eggs and a side of black pudding. And after she'd gone I would find ostrich feathers and pearl buttons that had fallen off her dress, strewn on the carpet; and bright red lipstick stains all over the glassware; and burns in the tablecloth from her stubbed out her cigarettes.

Who's your #1 fantasy dinner guest?

The romance of traveling about by train

OK - maybe "romance" might be overstating it a bit, but I do like train journeys. In my twenties I traveled by rail all over Europe and through India. And though not always exactly a glamorous experience, it was romantic. Or at least it seems there was a romance to the journey, now that the specifics of the bathroom facilities have faded. Arriving at the Venice rail station from Milan, leaving the train, and realizing that the taxis were water taxis and the canals were right there, at the end of the platform. Or looking at the passing landscape in Northern India through the iron slats of the rail carriage and arriving in Agra from Dehli to see the sublimely beautiful Taj Mahal.

Clearly Amtrak is selling the same concept of the romance of the rail too. And on a recent trip from NY to Washington DC, I was amused to see this rather optimistic tag line on my coffee cup:
"Enjoy the taste of a better world". Huh.

Well call me a cynic, but the view from the train that day was not exactly "America the beautiful". The kind of images not usually used in the tourist brochures whizzed passed my view - the Baltimore neighborhood that looked like a war zone; the disused and decaying factories; the quarries; the urban decay; graffiti.

But then ...

...nearing Wilmington DE, we crossed a body of water and there was this: The Susquehanna River Bridge - gorgeous, and quite lovely at sunset. And that is the image that I will remember, that will stick in my mind. And that is the romance of traveling about by train.

A hotel recycled

I booked the Ritz Carlton, Georgetown, Washington, DC before seeing a photo. We had primarily chosen the hotel as our "base of operations" for a girl's weekend away, because of its location. The Georgetown neighborhood, right by the Potomac river, has charming, cobblestone streets with great little shops and cafes to wander around.  Secondly, the hotel has high thread count sheets, important to my friend Sarah. Thirdly, I got a cut rate price on the suite the four of us would share, very important to me. I do like a deal.

It turns out the hotel is a former City Industrial Incineration plant. Um. Really? I'm not sure that's what we had in mind? No. Seriously. Really?

I kind of would've like to have been in the meeting when the clever person with the incredible imagination first pitched that idea. I wonder if they laughed them out of the room at first, or if they embraced the idea immediately. But, I digress.

It turns out it's very cool. Having completely gutted and redesigned the space, the hotel opened in 1999. The architects did a brilliant job of maintaining the original integrity of the building, while providing all the luxurious touches for which the Ritz Carlton Group is renowned.

The hotel lobby is modern and airy and light, with black industrial staircase and exposed brick walls. There are stunning arrangements of orchids and it's furnished in chic, minimalist style - but homey, not austere. Believe me, there's a very comfy sofa right in front of a roaring log fire that's a great spot from which to enjoy a pre dinner Champagne cocktail, and post dinner Baileys, or two...

...and on which to relax and chat and laugh/snort very loudly with your friends. 

I would definitely recommend it and stay there again if I'm back in DC.  

Two paintings that caught my eye

Pablo Picasso wrote: "Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life".
I was already on a "soul cleanse" on a weekend away from the daily grind with some of my best girlfriends, so a visit to the National Gallery seemed like a bonus rinse.

This painting, "Green Wheat Fields, Auvers" by Vincent Van Gogh has only been put on display there since December, and it is stunning. Apparently he painted it in June or July 1890, just before he died - after he'd infamously cut off his ear, and been released from the asylum. The colors light up the room.
It's breathtaking, proving as always, genius and insanity - flip side of the same coin.

Amongst the other Impressionist paintings at the National Gallery, I also fell in love with this one by Henri Matisse: "Odelisque seated with arms raised in green striped chair" painted in 1923. I like the contrasting pattern and colors of the wallpaper and the chair and the curtain, and her relaxed, yet confident pose. Of course I especially love her rounded stomach and fleshy frame too. This beautiful woman, Henriette Darricarriere, was also a painter, and an accomplished musician and dancer (the delicate transparent and embroidered pants are part of a harem costume).

I should also mention, we overheard a pre teenage girl say in passing and glancing at this painting: "Well it's not her fault, they didn't really have razors back then"... I laughed out loud. Funny.

But then, maybe not.  Ideals of beauty have changed over time. In this preteen's understanding of current societal ideals, this natural nude is probably far "too hairy and fat" to be considered beautiful.

And ultimately that to me is more than a little sad, not funny at all. Don't you agree?