Wee me


I went to New Orleans last week to visit the woman who made me. One night at dinner I asked her why she doesn't have a boyfriend. She said the same thing that every single woman always says: "There's no one out there." Apparently all men over 40 are bald, fat or crazy according to my mom. She then proceeded to tell me that back in her day she had so many men she couldn't remember. She was what one would call a "Ho."

This is really not good. I always suspected that she had a slightly nefarious side. She's WAY to good of a dancer, she throws her head back when she laughs and touches her neck (classic chick move), and she does that smoldering smoky-eye look when someone takes her picture. Still.

My dad didn't have it so good. I asked her why she went for such a nerd (sorry Dad, I love you) and she said... ew... that he had a "sexy brain." BLLLAAARRRFFF. The word SEXY needs to be stricken from the English language now.

Theeenks mom!

Mom was a BABE btw. A Talitha-Getty-in-a-Halston textbook JAP. A socialite from Westchester who wanted to be an actress. A skinny, ethnic beauty. Her mom was the exact same way, but snobbier. My grandfather ran for Mayor and was a prestigious lawyer (how Jewy is that)? Eleanore Roosevelt even ate in their house once.

Anyhow, mom went from her typical New York Jew pedigree to marrying my dad, a boxer from S. Prospect and Boston in the Bronx. BDP vibes much dad? While on their way to Mexico for the honeymoon they stopped off in The French Quarter where they stayed, opened a clothing and jewelry store and raised me. Our store was on the corner of Pirate's Alley next to the Jackson Square Cathedral in the Thomas House (built in 1827). If you look up you can see the balcony apartment I was born in on Royal Street. During Mardi Gras my parents would hire these two gay guys named "Steve n Pepper" to decorate our window with floats, beads, maska, Zulus, Saints, Indians, Mardi Gras Queens, which all looked cooler back in the early 80's. I went to the little red schoolhouse right there on St. Philip. If you've been to the Quarter you've seen it. Some pics from my hood:
My first crib y'all!
My corner store where I bought thousands of Slush Puppies (slurpees) and Bubble Yum.
My favorite antiques shop when I was tiny. Joan Good is still there!

End of the story is that my parents were fake hippies who became respectable members of society in the 80's and got divorced. Dad became a lawyer and moved to California with my step family. So cliche!

xo more to follow xo