Sunday, April 1, 2012
"Memphis" yesterday we stopped in the Fashion District, rode the crowded elevator to the second floor of Mood, and shopped where the Project Runway stars shop—got lost among countless bolts of fabric (does anyone actually know how many bolts of fabric lie supine at Mood?). Oh, this was a great thing to do. Yes, I did come home with Mood feathers and a T-shirt. Next we went to Parsons and stood inside its skinny lobby. All so that I could say (to any who would listen; will you listen?): I stood among the vapors of Mondo and Austin.
"Memphis" was just what I needed yesterday—third-row orchestra seats, center, thanks to my brother. I loved the storyline of this show, surged ecstatic about the stage sets, felt the hammering heart of the big dance numbers, totally dug that gospel choir. I loved the two big guys who danced like there are no dance rules and who sang with such peppy abandon.
Just before the show began, I received a note from my agent, Amy Rennert (who always remembers), and another from Tamra Tuller, that dear soul, who was writing to say that my Small Damages jacket—a sample from the first run—would be waiting for me at home when I returned. It's gorgeous! It's debossed!! It, in some unpossess-able way, belongs to me. And at this dark hour, dawn, I am still trying to figure out how to take a photograph of it so that you can see what the fabulous Michael Green calls its "special touches." Philomel made an investment in this jacket. It shows. "You need to frame that one," my husband, the artist of inscrutable high standards, said.
On the bus home from NYC, our son called. He's an extremely happy kid. No, not a kid. He's a young man with the right friends and a bright future and such a knack for analysis and writing that he earned an A plus on a big paper this week. "What did the professor say?" I asked. Quietly, then, never boastful, my son answered.
"Well," he said. "He actually called it awesome."
"Awesome," I repeated. "Wow. Was there more?" I have to ask; my kid is immune to bragging and strut. (Obviously he's a better person than his mother, but I've been saying that since the day he was born.)
"He said it wasn't just persuasive but innovative and inspired."
"Innovative! Inspired! Well, that must feel good."
"Can I see it some time?"
"If you want to."
If I want to. Jeepers, I want to.
Today is Palm Sunday, April Fool's Day, my birthday. There will be no client work undertaken during the next several hours (for any clients who may be reading). There will be church, and then I'll take a drive to Clay's Creative Bakery and buy a couple of cupcakes. I will eat at least one. I will write Berlin in the afternoon. I will figure out how to photograph the Small Damages jacket. I will or will not take a walk, depending on the weather.