Posts Tagged ‘Maison Giraud’

Whatever Coat I Want…

Saturday, February 4th, 2012

Some women like shoes.  Some dig purses.  I love coats.  And I have lots of them.

I own a vintage Biba coat, which means nothing to most people, but I bought it for 5 pounds at the antiques market on London’s Portobello Road in the late 70’s.  Though I have a few designer coats, it isn’t about the name for me at all.  It’s about covering up and looking good when I am probably wearing sweats and looking faintly homeless underneath.

I screened a documentary about my dad the other night, and in a little speech before the movie I stated that some chicks in this town spend on a purse what I spent on the whole budget of my film.

One day, my son Oliver had these friends over.  The girl made a passing remark that she liked my coat.  Boy, was she sorry.  I said “If you like this, you might also like this,” then I came out to the pool where they were talking wearing a different one.  She oohed and aahed.  At that point, I just went into full-blown modeling every single coat I owned, or at least the ones I adore.  She was a model herself, so I thought she might like my show.  Only, it took over an hour.  An hour of her life and mine spent digging in my closets to find stylish coats that I’ve purchased over the years.  Poor Oliver.

Each year on my birthday, my husband either goes hunting for a new coat on his own or he might go with me to pick out a cool one.  And then I wear the shit out of it.  If you see me in the market, I will be wearing that year’s model, and you can only guess what’s under it.  Not pretty, trust me.

Recently at a party, I sat with my friend Lynne and we stared out at the crowd, commenting on this person or that.  Pointing to the old lady parked on the couch that never moved the whole night, I said, “Look Lynne, that’s me in the near future!”  She said, “Yeah, but you’ll be rocking a cool new coat.” (more…)

Happy Epicurean Day To Me

Wednesday, November 23rd, 2011

I had the annual physical.  I asked the right questions.  At least the right ones for me.  My mother had a stroke in her 50’s; my dad had many strokes and then died in his 80’s after suffering a heart attack.  Dr. Oz is suggesting everyone get carotid artery ultra sounds. “ Let’s set one up” I said to my doctor.  Then later in my appointment, I ended up revealing the amount of butter and sugar I eat.  Daily.  It’s not the sugar I’m concerned about.  It’s only one little slice of cake per day.  I do tend to eat too much bread and butter at times though.  All my friends are on detox diets or gluten free.  I’m the last man standing.  Even Benjy succumbed recently and he not only doesn’t smoke (so proud of him) but now he’s a clean eater.  It’s almost no fun.  There’s no one left to eat forbidden foods with.  Like chips.  Fries dunked in mayonnaise the way I like them.

Today was the 1:15 appointment to get that scan.  The first call I got in the morning was my friend Andrea who had scored a croissant from the new French bakery in our hood.  I already know I’m a fan of Alain Giraud’s croissants from his other restaurants.  I’ve been waiting for a good restaurant to open in the Palisades for the full 20 years I have been a resident.

Second call of the morning was my daughter wondering what I was doing for lunch.  Perhaps I’d like to meet her at our favorite, the Beverly Hills Hotel coffee shop.  I tell her, I would love to have lunch but she must meet me and go with me for this scan first.  Oh, and we will be on my side of town.  West of the 405 freeway.  Let’s just say Santa Monica.

During the brief appointment with a technician, I remembered that my doctor had said let’s wait for the results, meaning not just the scan but my cholesterol and everything before going full speed ahead with my bread and butter addiction.  Everything was smooth sailing.  Cholesterol results are fine.   Well, maybe there is a touch of plaque for this artery scan and I’m not perfect.  Oh, well.  During the exam, the dude was telling my daughter and I that eating well and exercising are the key.   Before we left the office my wacky daughter looked at the tech guy and asked about some gland on her neck.    We left the office and I whispered, “He isn’t a doctor.” Then suddenly she announces loudly in front of all the patients in a cardiologist’s office that she’s craving hamburgers! (more…)