Colleen Taylor

I came across a clip from a recent Oprah Show dedicated to the "greatest lessons" she's learned over the course of her on-air career. I'm not the biggest Oprah fan, but I really liked her anecdote about why she stayed in Chicago, where her show still airs in its original 9 A.M time slot, for so long. Essentially, it's a version of "dance with the one that brung ya," an adage to which I personally try to adhere for as long as practicable.

"Years ago... I was gonna get paid a lot more money to move to Channel 2. They wanted me to move to Channel 2 at four in the afternoon to help out their news, and they were gonna pay me a bunch more money to do it. Like, millions of dollars.

And I said to [producer] Roger King, 'I'm not gonna do that.' He was like, 'Are you crazy? Did you not understand what I said? How many zeros are on the check?' And I said, 'No, because the 9 o'clock Chicago audience was where I started.' And he said, 'Do you think those people are still sitting there watching TV?' And no, I didn't.

But I did feel that there was something energetically right about staying where you were, and being loyal to the people who helped you get started. So I'm grateful to Chicago."

"Her nails are unmanicured, which on her looks like the last word in efficient chic, and I suddenly find myself wondering why I bother with a weekly polish."

--from a recent New York Times Magazine article about Cate Blanchett written by Daphne Merkin

I'm certainly a fan of the weekly polish, but I can totally relate to Daphne Merkin on this: When I come into close contact with a smart, compelling, put-together woman, I'm liable to call every single one of my current sartorial choices into question.

If I'm wearing flats and I meet a cool woman in towering heels, I instantly wish I were literally in her shoes. Suddenly I want to swap my trendy pastel polish for her understated beige manicure, or vice versa. This happened most recently while covering the Women in Tech panel at Facebook, which featured some really brilliant (and amazingly dressed) women.

I recently read a memoir by Carole Radziwill that focuses in part on her friendship with the late Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. I was too young to really appreciate CBK's style in the early 90s, but reading about her personality, and looking at her photos now, is enough to make a girl want to remove all her nail polish and toss out 90% of her wardrobe, jewelry, hair products, and makeup.

“I attribute the longevity of my career to the fact I didn’t have to carry that [sex symbol] mantle. I was never beautiful so I’m not unbeautiful. I may not have been a leading lady, but I had great clothes and funny lines. I think I had more flexibility.”

-Christine Baranski in the NYT's new monthly feature, "Main Course"


I've always loved the simple, direct, yet sensitive writing of the NYT's fashion journalist Cathy Horyn (think Steve Jobs' memos, but on the topic of runway fashion rather than consumer technology.) But I haven't read as much of her as I'd like, since her beat often isn't of very much interest to me.

Sure, I like to read a monthly women's fashion magazine or two (Elle is my favorite), but that's more for the pop culture than for the clothing spreads. I'm not interested in keeping up with the constant treadmill of multi-city, multi-season "fashion weeks" that Cathy Horyn writes about for a living.

That's why I was happy to see that the Times has given Horyn a new monthly column called "Main Course," which is billed as "a conversation over lunch with a notable public figure." For the column's debut, Horyn sat down with the actress Christine Baranski at storied Manhattan media power lunch spot Michael's (Horyn notes that during their lunch Barbara Walters was naturally sitting one table away, and, just as naturally, Baranski didn't notice.) Needless to say, I thought the whole article was fantastic.

P.S. Although I'd beg to differ on Baranski's assertion that she's not beautiful, I get what she's trying to say. I'd take great clothes and funny lines over youthful sex symbol status any day.

"...this father-friend

who liked to show me the shape I would become

rather than cutting my edges so I could fit a preferred cast more to his liking

since it seemed what he liked best was to recognize native clay

solid in its mystery

and observe how its wonder was synecdoche for the indescribable majesty of

its being observed by someone.