Colleen Taylor

Alec Baldwin, giving more interview real talk (he's the best at that, really) in the December issue of Elle, on what he's looking for in a relationship:

'I don't really care. As long as we get along. As long as she likes the same strength coffee I do. It's the little things.'

And what strength is that?

'Strong.'

Two (of many*) quotable bits from the fantastic Diane Von Furstenberg interview** in this month's Harper's Bazaar:

What would you say is your favorite thing about being married?
DVF: I don't know. No one's ever asked me that. I mean, I don't particularly like to be married. I don't know. It feels very natural. I don't feel like I'm a prisoner. So the things I like the best about being married are probably the things that aren't very typical about being married. I can't believe I married twice. I so don't care about being married.

Now, you realize that you're a commanding, magnetic presence.  Were you always like that?
DVF: You don't see yourself like that.  Nobody does.  You know, there's a thing about the woman across the room. You see the woman across the room and you think, She's so poised, she's so together.  But she looks at you and you are the woman across the room for her.***


*DVF should really have been on the cover instead of Janet Jackson.  I mean, if "I can be an emotional eater" is the highlighted, takeaway quote from the cover story, you know it's a dull one. We all know you are, Janet. Let's move on.

** This is a great interview because it's in that transcript style that seems straight from the tape recorder. I love to get a feel for how a person really talks, especially when they have so many interesting things to say.

*** DVF was literally once the woman across the room for me, four years ago, when we were both at the same luncheon at the Four Seasons in New York (yes, it was one of those boom-time media events.)  I met her briefly, and she really is a magnetic presence--smart and seasoned and beautiful and chic and so completely comfortable in the world.

But what's really remarkable is that even though she clearly has a lot she could say about herself and her decades of experiences, she genuinely seems more interested in learning about you and what you're doing. That's very rare in general, and especially in people over a certain age. It's definitely how I want to be when I grow up.

I feel like I have Tweet-worthy thoughts, but if I signed up for Twitter now I'd just be awkwardly, far-beyond-fashionably late to the party.  Not sure what to do about this in general, but for now I'll just post a couple micro-thoughts on my macro-blog.

• My favorite "Wait, what?" sentence from the September 2009 issue of Harper's Bazaar: "Because it's smothered in sequins, making it the perfect wear-anywhere item for our times." 

• I was recently shopping for a petcare gift certificate (my sister's starting a Ph.D. program this fall and would probably enjoy a day or two off of caring for her Yorkie.) Turns out, reading reviews of pet boarding places on Yelp is a sure-fire way to get freaked out. Is this because lots of pet owners are ridiculously over-protective and will never be satisfied with anyone else's care of their pet? Or is it that no matter what cute name you give it (doggy daycare, luxury puppy hotel), it's a kennel, and most kennels just aren't especially nice places?
  

The great thing about the New Yorker recently is that no matter what the subject-- whether it's a breezy shopping article by Patricia Marx or a multi-part essay about Ian Frazier's travels in Siberia-- it's really fun to read. Even when a story is hugely informative, reading it rarely feels like I'm eating my vegetables.

And that wasn't a hypothetical thing, the long Siberia travel essay. I actually read Part I last week.  I especially liked Frazier's antecdote about how Siberia and America are similar in that they "both exist as constructs, expressions of the mind" to each other. You know how someone might say he parked "out in Siberia" if the only spot he could find was, say, four blocks from his apartment?  It turns out being "in America" has a very definite connotation in Siberia, as well:

"The time was late evening; darkness had fallen. [An acquaintance and native of Siberia] led us from room to room, throwing on all the lights and pointing out the amenities. When we got to the kitchen, he flipped the switch but the light did not go on. This seemed to upset him. He fooled with the switch, then hurried off and came back with a stepladder. Mounting it, he removed the glass globe from the overhead light and unscrewed the bulb. He climbed down, put globe and bulb on the counter, took a fresh bulb, and ascended again. He reached up and screwed the new bulb into the socket. After a few twists, the light came on.

He turned to us and spread his arms wide, indicating the beams brightly filling the room. 'Ahhh,' he said, triumphantly. 'Amerika!'"