Danielle Steel's Blog, page 65

Why Not?

In July, I have a new book coming out in hardcover called "Happy Birthday". It started out with a funny theme, about three people tuning 'landmark ages' on the same day. A very glamorous, beautiful woman who has a boomingly successful career and TV show, as the arbiter of taste and style in the home—she's gorgeous and successful, but turning 60, even if she doesn't look it. On the same day, her daughter, who owns a restaurant and works like a slave and has no love life or partner—is turning 30. And somewhere across town (New York), a sexy, fabulous bachelor, ex-football star tuned sportscaster, who likes to date 23 year olds—is turning 50, and manages to throw his back out of whack and nearly cripple himself the night before his birthday, during some exuberant sexual antics. (And when he nearly crawls into his chiropractor's office the next day, in agony, he feels more like 90 than 50!!).

I loved the idea of these 3 people hitting ages that none of us like to face, all on the same day. And in the book, there lives become intertwined, and little by little, they realize that whatever age they are may not be so bad; I came up with the idea on my own birthday, on a year that I was growing with horror at my age. Whatever age I am, or have been, I have always been convinced that I was ancient—since I was about 25. Maybe even 21. I started everything early in life. I went to college at 15, got married at 17, had kids at 19, and by the time I was 21, I actually felt old. These days everyone seems to act, feel, dress and think young. When I was young, it was all about being 'responsible' and 'grown up'. Now it's all about youth. And whatever age I was, I look at pictures of myself and think 'yerghk, I'm ancient', and then 5 years later would see the same pictures and think 'wow, I looked really young then! But NOW I'm ancient. The numbers are really silly, and maybe they're irrelevant. (I wrote my first book at 19, so I've always been on some sort of fast track, speeding ahead). And I guess our obsession with age is still an issue, since I recently discovered that almost all my daughters' friends, in their early 20's are getting Botox shots! Now THAT is silly! Really silly! Or at least I think so.

So writing the book "Happy Birthday" gave me a chance to think about ages, landmark ages, and how we view ourselves. And as I wrote the book, and urged my characters to do new and different things, the theme of 'why not?' emerged, and it became an important theme in the book—-and in my life. The three people in the book wind up in totally unexpected love affairs with startling results in all three cases. They do new and different things, and find themselves thinking 'why not?' which opens new doors for them—and the mood of the book became contagious. I found myself thinking 'why not?' too. Why do we have to tread the same path we always have? Why can't we do something totally new and different and unexpected? Why do we have to be limited by age, at any age? We are a person, not a number. The concept of 'why not?' opens new doors, can lead to new lives or careers; can bring us to new people. The concept is incredibly liberating!

The Why Not experiences in my life have almost always been good ones, only with a few exceptions. I have always loved art, and several years ago I decided to open an art gallery, which was one of the happiest, most exciting things I've ever done. I loved every minute of it. I didn't know how to run a gallery, and it was all new to me, but it was a truly fabulous experience for the four years I did it. My first book was a 'why not' idea. Having many children; people were always telling me that you can't have a career and a family. Why not, if you're willing to do the work that goes with it? My first house, that I bought, was a huge stretch for me. It was a major why not. When I divorced, I missed spending time on boats since my ex-husband was an avid sailor. And I realized that boats didn't have to be history for me and my kids. I found a way for us to spend a week on a boat every summer—another stretch, but well worth it. I also love to play poker (and still do), and I started a poker game every two weeks that was great fun.

We so easily accept limitations of time and age and circumstances, and if we're brave enough to throw open closed doors and say 'why not?' suddenly the possibilities are endless.

The theme for that book has stayed with me. And when I tell myself I can't do something, because its not 'sensible', or I shouldn't' or its too silly, or I'm too old, or I can't because I can't, because I'm single and single people can't do that—-I think of 'why not?' now, and I get braver and more creative. The truth is, with some ingenuity, we can do a lot of things we never thought we could. Sometimes it takes courage, and there are still some things I've never done and maybe will never do, but life has been a lot more fun since I've responded 'why not?' to a number of possibilities. I hope the book will inspire you too. And even if you never read the book, the next time you start to squash yourself and tell yourself why you can't do something—-ask yourself 'why not?' (even if its eating a hamburger for breakfast if you want to, or trying new make-up, a new hair color, or meeting new person, or dating someone you may never have considered—-ask yourself 'why not?'—-I bet it will put a lot more fun and excitement in your life 'why not?'—-the result of asking yourself that question, and being open to new possibilities, can be amazing! Why not?

Love, Danielle

Bon Voyage!

I recently gave a dinner for friends in San Francisco whom I have known and loved for nearly twenty years. They are 'grown up' people, with adult children, surrounded by friends who admire and love them, and I think both of them have lived in San Francisco for about forty years, maybe longer. And they seemed solidly entrenched in their community and the life of the city.

Two months ago, while 'playing' on the Internet, they looked at houses, and must have been looking at comparable homes in other parts of the country. They had no interest in moving, and had a beautiful apartment in San Francisco. And lo and behold, they fell in love with a home in a suburb of Atlanta. Neither of them knew the city or had friends there. But it was love at first sight. For several days after, they talked about the fabulous home they'd seen on the internet, and before any of us knew what had happened, they had bought it, and announced they were moving. Huh? What? Are you kidding/ In Atlanta, where they knew no one? Yup.

Well, they did it. They saw it, loved it, packed up, and told their friends they were moving, while the rest of us stood around gaping, unable to grasp the concept. They're of an age where people like to be near their children, want to know their doctors, like to see the same dentist, and wouldn't consider moving to anywhere unfamiliar. But they did it. The packed up, and before anyone could even begin to take them seriously, they announced that they were leaving in tow weeks. And their friends comments ranged from 'crazy' to 'nuts', to silent disbelief. And I can't say I thought it was a great idea either. But once I saw their enthusiasm, and energy about it, I began to realize that it wasn't such a bad idea, and it was a brave and exciting thing to do.

So I organized a dinner for their friends to say goodbye to them and celebrate their new adventure. And all of us were sad to see them leave. (As party favors for each person at the dinner, I gave everyone a chocolate valise and a bottle of Southern Comfort). both of them were excited and lively at the dinner, while the rest of us were sad to see them go. But I have to say, for all the comments about how crazy they are, I admire their spunk and sense of excitement. I don't think I'd move to a new city where I know no one. What if I got a stomach ache in the middle of the night, who would I call? How would I find a vet if my dog got sick? What if I hated it once I got there? but I admire them for what they're doing. Maybe life is about having that kind of courage, and not being afraid to try something new.

So while the rest of us are waving our hankies, sad to see them go, they are off and running on a new adventure. They'll find a vet, and the nearest hardware store. They'll figure it out if they get a stomach ache, meet new people, and find a new dentist. You only live once, and you might as well enjoy it. Life is about having dreams and not giving them up. I no longer think it's crazy, I think it's terrific! Bravo for people brave enough to have a dream and pursue it! Life is about having dreams and the courage to try something new. I think it's fantastic! And I hope I have as much courage to follow my own dreams…and you too!

Love, Danielle

Art Fairs

After ten years of no longer having any art fair at all in San Francisco, we got our first one back last year, much to my delight. A fair of contemporary art. It's a great opportunity to see what's new in the art world, discover new artists, see work by familiar artists, and just enjoy a whole lot of art in one place. And this year, the theory of 'more is better' must have taken hold, and we had TWO art fairs in SF on the same weekend. And art-hog that I am, I went to both fairs on the (same) opening night. It was a bit of a race to get to both, but I couldn't resist. Soooooo much art in one night!!! I was in heaven. My interest was personal, because I love art, and also semi-professional, as I still curate an art show every year, for a wonderful SF gallery that I love. It's a real honor to be allowed to curate for them, and put together an art show, now that my own contemporary art gallery is closed. And I just love being part of the art scene, and seeing new work, by new artists, or artists that I love (and even some whom I have represented in my gallery). I loved seeing old friends, and all that glorious work!!!

So off I went to the first one, at Fort Mason, in SF, and then on to the second one, south of Market Street, which seemed like a busier show. There were more people there, and a great deal of work, but I enjoyed both fairs. It was really a fun night, going to see it all. And yes, of course, I bought a painting by an artist I represented, Gordon Smedt. The painting is of a pile of Converse sneakers, tossed in a heap helter skelter. I love it!!! And am sending it to Paris. I have a lot of Gordon's work!!! And I'm thrilled to have a new piece.

What was my favorite piece in the show, other than the one I bought? Two Fiat cars (old ones) cut in half, with the front ends welded together, with a front end at each end, and all of it painted red. Apparently the piece was made by two artists who had gotten divorced but still work together, and they called it "Irreconcilable Differences". I couldn't resist asking if you could still drive it, and was told you couldn't—-I was severely disappointed by that, and would have loved to drive down the street with the front end of a car in the front and another in the rear facing backward…..that would be so much fun!!! I didn't buy it, but what a fun piece that would be to own—–and better yet, to drive.

There was some serious work at both shows, by well known artists, and some by unknowns, or people mid-career. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and am so grateful that San Francisco has TWO art fairs now…..I had a ball!!!!

Oops….Shot My Mouth Off

Yup….I did…..shot my mouth off….I made one of those comments without thinking (to the press) that follow you for a lonnnnngggggggg time, and even though there's some truth to it, I was being flip. Presidents do it, heads of State, diplomats, politicians, and just regular old people, you say something that seems clever at the time, that rolls off your tongue like a gumball falling out of a gumball machine, and pretty soon you're sitting there with your foot in your mouth, sorry that you spoke so quickly. Oops!!!

In a recent interview with the Wall Street Journal, about some pretty bland subjects (like my favorite perfume), the subject somehow rolled around to how people dress in San Francisco, and I was a little too candid. For one thing, in order to accommodate the interviewer's schedule, I think the (phone) interview was about 6 pm for him in NY, or maybe even 7 pm, which was midnight or 1 am for me in Paris. I'm a night owl, but still, tongues get looser in the wee hours. It was the end of a long day for me, and there is something very intimate about sitting around in your kitchen after midnight, talking to someone on the phone. There is a confessional atmosphere to it, and you're liable to say things you shouldn't, so I guess I did. And the reaction to my comments has been interesting.

What I said was that (most) people don't care how they look in San Francisco, and there is some truth to it—-certainly compared to how people used to look there, or anywhere in the world. When I was a kid, you had to 'dress up' to travel, you wore nice clothes, now most people wear the most comfortable clothes they own, and no one gets 'dressed up' to take a plane. And the same is true for how we all dress in most cities. People dress for comfort now, and it's so easy to wear blue jeans, gym clothes, sweat pants, comfortable old clothes. Men used to wear suits and ties to the office, now in a lot of businesses, you can wear jeans. And the more relaxed the rules and norms have gotten, the sloppier we've all gotten—me included. Running shoes are considered okay footwear for all occasions, and in some climates even flip flops. Ten or twenty years ago, I would have never left my house in what I wear to go downtown now. No one wears 'hair-dos', I have long hair and either wear it down or shove it into a pony tail, I don't wear make up to do errands, and my favorite daily garb is torn blue jeans, and a comfy old sweater and flat shoes. (Unlike my girls who work in fashion in New York and wear chic outfits, and 7″ heels—that would kill me). I haven't worked in an office in 30 years, and my 'work outfits' have gotten more and more disreputable and comfortable over the years, and I usually work/write in ancient wool nightgowns, with heavy sweaters over them since I'm always cold, and flat shoes or even bare feet. (My entire family screams with laughter when photographers suggest they photograph me in whatever I wear to write….yeah, don't count on that!!! It would scare you to death, with uncombed hair and no make-up in my ancient nighties). So I get it about dressing for comfort, and it has always seemed like a waste of time to me to get dressed up in order to sit alone in a room, writing, sometimes for 22 hour stretches, and straight through the night. (Believe me, I'm not looking elegant at those hours either). The difference today is that all of us, I think, allow ourselves to go out the way we look at home when we're relaxing. The rules have changed, and anything goes, all around the world. NO ONE gets as dressed up as they used to.

Some cities are also 'fancier' than others. No question, although running shoes and jeans are often okay for work there too, people do dress up more in New York. They look nicer in restaurants. Men in certain industries wear coats and ties, and women just seem to make more effort when they go out in New York, although I'm sure they have sloppy days there too. But New York is still pretty chic. I've only been to Chicago twice, but I was very impressed with how chic people were and what a sophisticated city it was (like a smaller New York). I always find that the women in LA look sexy, and well groomed—great hair, perfect manicures, VERY fancy designer jeans. They're casual, but they do it in a sexy way, with visible effort invested. Maybe because it's a town where the main industry is show biz, which means beauty and good looks, so everyone seems to try harder there. And by comparison, although it used to be a very formal city, San Francisco just isn't a chic city anymore. What I referred to in the interview in the Wall Street Journal as the 'camping trip look' is really prevalent, and when you look at people in the street in San Francisco, that's what you see most: baggy hiking shorts or torn jeans, flip flops, Tevas, hiking boots, and a pretty rag tag look. Everyone looks like they dress for comfort, and even if I go to a restaurant in SF (except the few really fancy ones I don't go to), I feel overdressed if I wear more than jeans, a sweater and a parka. People just don't dress up there. A friend who recently visited me in SF from Europe looked around and said "Don't people care how they look here?". They look like they don't, (and I don't look much better when I'm there, it's just easy not to make the effort). It's just not a great look on anyone, men or women, and I actually feel better when I make a little more effort. So I made that comment about the SF look.

Amazingly, a journalist in the SF Chronicle picked up my comment from the Wall Street Journal interview and ran a big article last Sunday which began and ended with the line "Danielle Steel is right", and followed up with photographs of people in the streets, wearing just what I described, and concluding that as a whole, and a city, we don't care how we look here anymore, and it's too bad.

Well, let me tell you, that second article REALLY did it, and I figured I'd be shot on the street in SF any minute. Predictably, there were editorials in the paper today about how full of hot air I am, how badly dressed I am, etc etc. I guess I asked for that when I shot off my mouth. And I had compared SF to Paris, where people have gotten more casual too, but still make more effort about how they look. It's a dressier city, like New York, but they are big cities of many million people, and SF is a small town, with a much more relaxed atmosphere which also affects how people dress. It's really not about money, it's about effort—it doesn't cost anymore to comb your hair and put on make-up and put on a clean shirt or sweater before you go out. The point is that 'anything goes' in SF, so people take advantage of that. And I do feel like a weirdo if I get dressed up in SF (but I look like hell in hiking shorts, and I don't wear them!!! Maybe if I had cuter legs…..).

In any case, I took a big blast in the SF papers today, for my snotty, or ill advised comment, true or not. No one likes to be told they look a mess, even or especially if they do. There was a lot of response about why would you get all dressed up or wear something fancy to go out, or stiletto heels. They missed the point, it's not about looking 'fancy', it's about looking nice, neat, clean, and not wearing the absolute worst thing you own to go downtown, or the office, just because you can get away with it. Eventually, if enough people do that, it sets a tone for the whole city, and becomes how we all look (me too, minus the hiking shorts, as explained above). My torn jeans look no better than the hiking shorts others are wearing, and make me look like I need a free meal.  I would never go out in Paris, even to the grocery store, looking the way I do in SF. I'd look like a bum there if I did, but in SF, you stick out if you look too neat and clean and nice. I think that's too bad. It's bad for my morale too, I feel better when I look at least a little better. In the paper today they lambasted me for what I wear (when I go to big public events, like benefit evenings, which I do seldom), they commented on the bracelets I wear, which I don't even notice, I have a collection of bracelets on each arm, that are wood, gold, and some diamond ones too, that people I love and my kids have given me over the years, and haven't been off my arms in 25 years. My kids call them my 'fruit salad', and I never take them off, and even sleep with them, and forget about them. But I suppose if one thought I was putting them all on every day, it would be pretty strange.

So my comment was not very discreet, but it is sadly true about SF. I'm sorry if I hurt anyone's feelings, and I'm sure I'll hear about it for a long time. The funniest thing was that the article in the SF Chronicle on Sunday said I had moved away, because I live in Paris half the year now. I started doing that 7 years ago, and it took them 7 years to notice that I'm gone part of the time. I suppose I should be insulted by that, but I'm not……anyway, I certainly woke people up with my comment, and I guess they're going to be throwing rocks at me for it for a while…..oops….as my kids used to say, 'open mouth, insert foot'…..Love, Danielle

Great Expectations: "That was then. This is now."

I recently had an interesting experience about motherhood, and really more about expectations, and what happens when we let them go.

One of my favorite holidays is Mother's Day—because I get celebrated, get presents and don't have to get a year older. Wow!  Talk about a great deal.  And my kids have always given me fabulous mother's days, and having nine kids made that a pretty exciting day.  But kids grow up, mine live in three cities, all are busy with lives and careers, some have kids, and it's not as easy anymore to get together for Mother's Day. I'm grateful that we manage to get together for Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and my birthday—that's a lot.  And let's face it, mother's day isn't quite as big a deal as holidays go.  And this year my Mother's Day showed serious signs of falling apart.

I was told that one of my kids couldn't make for the day.  Two others had plans that involved being somewhere else. Three of them were going to a bachelorette weekend on the other side of the country…and only two were able to be with me that day.  Hmph…my nose was seriously out of joint.  Two kids out of eight seemed like a pretty quiet mother's day this year, and I crabbed about it for several weeks, and finally decided to be a good sport, and pretend to be grown up.  But I was a little disappointed not to see more of my kids.  (Okay, so I'm not always so grown up, and was being a bit of a brat).  And after muttering about it for a while, I finally gave up, and was grateful to spend it with the two kids who had agreed to spend it with me.  And I flew back from Paris to spend Mother's Day with them.  (One forgets that two children is a normal sized family for most people….but I am used to the chaos provided by nine!  When they started leaving for college, and I 'only' had four left at home, I thought I had an empty house.  It's all relative, and I don't have an empty nest yet, since I have one child in college still at home, and several who live nearby).  In any case, my expectations of Mother's Day this year were small.  And I stopped worrying about it after a while.

On my way back from Paris, I stopped in New York, and was told the night before I arrived, that two of my children who live there had had a change of plans.  (Both were supposed to be at the bachelorette party in another city, and I wasn't going to see them at all).  Instead, both had to change their plans due to work.  One was flying to London, but had time to see me that afternoon before she left, the other one had to stay in New York to work, and I had dinner with her.  When I arrived at the hotel, they had left me a food basket filled with yummy things, and they spoiled me with thoughtful gifts.  I had a great visit with one daughter before she flew out, and lovely dinner with the other.  Both visits were fun and totally unexpected, and exceeded my expectations since I thought I wouldn't see them at all.

And the next day, in San Francisco, while enjoying lunch with the two children who were planning to see me, another of my children showed up with her kids, and apparently had always intended to show up.  And we had a lot of fun.  Two hours later my nephew showed up on a visit to San Francisco for work, and the next thing I knew, one of the daughters who'd gone to the bachelorette party flew through San Francisco and came home, on her way back to LA.  What I had thought would be very quiet Mother's Day turned into a celebration, my minimal expectations turned into a festive occasion, where I wound up seeing most of my children in two cities over two days.  And I felt lucky and blessed. I had a truly great day.

It was a real lesson to me that sometimes things turn out a lot better than we hope or plan.  I have a wise friend, who is older than I am, who lives by the mantra 'That was then, this in now'.  I never liked the saying, but now I realize how true that is, and it's not entirely a bad thing.  Kids grow up.  Things change.  You have to roll with the punches, go with the flow.  There is a time for macaroni necklaces, and little hands held in our own.  And it is a precious, sweet time.  But there is also something very wonderful about busy, adult children who make time for you in their lives, who manage to see you before they hop on a plane to take a trip for work, or fly home for a night, or manage to show up unexpectedly.  With slightly lowered expectations (once I stopped grousing), I had a fabulous Mother's Day, and was grateful for the precious gift of each moment I shared with them.  And even my nephew was a wonderful addition to the day.

Things don't always work out as we plan, and I'm a big planner and I hate it when things change.  But sometimes with the changes come new blessings, and if one can hold on not quite so tightly to the way things were, you find new blessings in the way things are.  'That was then, this is now' is even truer than I thought.  And 'now' is filled with blessings, even if a little different than before.

My Mother's Day turned out to be a really great day.  It would have been even if I had only spent it with two of my children….but how lucky I was to have spent it with so many more.  They made a huge effort to see me, and I was truly grateful for a wonderful day!!  Sometimes we have to give up the old ways, and see what life has in store.  And a far more spontaneous Mother's Day turned out to be the best one of all!!

Love, Danielle

The Lamb Chop Factor

My closest friend in SF, my best friend for many many years, and an incredibly wise, wonderful and often funny woman, has a terrific saying about dating. "You meet someone you think is the love of your life, and then you see him eat a lamb chop, like a cannibal, and never want to see him again." She calls it The Lamb Chop Factor. Sounds funny, huh? Not always. It actually turns out to be a major element in dating. And so far, the lamb chop factor has done me in every time, in the years since I've been divorced. For her, it was a guy who showed up for a date in his bicycle clothes, and looked so ridiculous (and inappropriate) it was over for her the minute she opened the door. She's lucky however; she met a wonderful man thereafter and has been happily married for many, many years. My favorite thing he said to her, once he made a commitment to her, was "I'm on board". So clear, so simple, so direct, so whole hearted—-which is precisely what he is with her and everyone else. That statement of his has become one of my main criteria in relationships ever since. Is the guy on board?? It's important to know. The guy (or woman) may be crazy about you, or like you a lot. But if he's not on board, and not willing to say so you really don't have anything, except a hot, or even lukewarm, date. So the statement "I'm on board" in relation to relationships means a lot to me. This couple has provided me with two important elements in dating. Does the person pass muster (the lamb chop factor), and are they committed to you, after a reasonable amount of time (are they on board?), not on the first date of course. Although the lamb chop factor can appear quickly, or take a certain amount of time to discover).

The lamb chop factor is whatever is important to you. Does a date show up looking like he hasn't seen soap since he was two and his mother forced him to use it? Does he show up fresh from the gym, minus a shower? Is he rude to waiters, or your friends, or worse, to you once he's comfortable with you? Does he cancel dates at the last minute, leaving you disappointed and all dressed up? Does he drink himself blind drunk at events that really matter to you? Hit on your friends? Is nasty or even thoughtless to your kids (presuming you're divorced and have children by someone else)? Mean to pets? Is he unbelievably boring? Disrespectful to women? Incredibly cheap (doesn't leave a tip, after taking you to a nice dinner, or a really bad tip. I'd rather go to McDonald's and leave a decent tip). Does he show off? Lie? Do you catch him in big or small lies? Is he a cheater? Have irritating habits?? Do something you hate in bed? Some of these are big things. The lamb chop factor are the sneaky small things that just don't surface in the beginning, and you really think this person is The One for you, you're beginning to get excited about it, you start to relax about him, you tell your friends how great he is…..and then the damn lamb chop factor shows up…..and you know in your gut that it's over, and you just can't get past whatever he just did. Some people conceal their bad habits for a while, even a long while, and then blam, some really AWFUL behavior or habit hits you right between the eyes. Something they say or believe in that you can't possibly live with, or something they do. And it's done. It can be such a disappointment, or even a heartbreak, if it's something you truly can't live with, or compromise on. Some people's views about life are so incompatible with our own that there is no way to make it work. It's better to find out sooner than later, but it still hurts.

I hate it when the lamb chop factor takes a while to show up. Especially a long time. And some things don't fall into the category of 'lamb chop factor', they are major character flaws, (like lying or cheating), and can take a while to show up too. The biggies do you in every time, and it is fatal to a relationship to ignore them. But the small ones can do you in too. You may feel petty for it, but someone whose philosophies just don't work with yours, or whose habits are just too annoying and doesn't recognize it, isn't going to be a big success in the relationship with you either. Unkindness blows it for me every time, but so does some small stuff, much as I hate to admit it. I can't eat lamb chops anymore, without thinking about what my friend said. Some things that qualify as lamb chop factor are really about bad manners and poor judgment (getting blind drunk when you take him to have dinner with your boss, or someone important to you, even your best friends. Telling outrageous and tasteless sexual jokes or stories to people who clearly don't find it amusing, nor do you. Saying something demeaning to you, alone or in front of other people. Either way that's not okay).

The lamb chop factor is usually something a lot smaller, which can make it funny at times. But bottom line, disappointment is not funny or amusing. And it is sooooooooo disappointing to discover something about someone you were crazy about, that you really can't stand. In my last big romance, I thought I had met someone nearly perfect (too perfect. The old saying "too good to be true" applied. Never a good sign. It was neither true, nor good in the end). For 8 months he was absolutely perfect and wonderful and I had never been so happy in my life, and then he turned into someone else overnight. I will spare you the boring details, but the next 8 months were as nightmarish as the first 8 months had been idyllic. I hung on, thinking he'd revert back to Mr. Wonderful. He didn't. He just hid his game for longer than some people can. And it was over in 16 months, half of them very unhappy and unfortunate. It happens, and it's better to know, no matter how bad it feels when it happens. (My children gave me a refrigerator magnet that says "It's better to have loved and lost than to live with a psycho for the rest of your life" It's still on my fridge, a good reminder).

Since then, sometimes with some amusement, the lamb chop factor has done me in every time (and I'm sure I have some irritating habits too. I am always available to my children, and sometimes they call at odd hours and want to talk about something important to them. I go to bed very late. I smoke, a deal breaker to many Americans, though not in Europe and in California people will more easily forgive you for having been convicted of murder, than smoking. I'm a neatnik which annoys some people; I go to church, which annoys others. I love sappy movies with happy endings that no guy wants to go to. And I am sensitive about comments that I think are disrespectful. I hate fancy restaurants, and people who are mean to others. And I'm addicted to chocolate. I'm sure any or all of those and other bad habits I'm not aware of have been lamb chop factors to someone). And I'm actually pretty tolerant about most people's strange habits. I don't think snoring (in others) is a federal offense, which it is to some people. It just doesn't bother me, and I sleep soundly. But some things are definitely a lamb chop factor for me.

I spent time with someone I was enjoying a lot, and thought they were fun. I saw nothing that unnerved me particularly for several months. Ha! Ha! I thought. Winners!!! No lamb chop factor at all. And then suddenly, he relaxed, and one fateful weekend, he drank from breakfast to bedtime, was incoherent by lunchtime, and comatose at 6 pm. Wow….damn….I figured it was some sort of bad weekend, a mistake, I was hoping there was a reason for it….nope…..It was the lamb chop factor on the rocks. Worse, he thought it was amusing and considered it a fabulous weekend. I didn't. I had a really, really lousy time. I don't drink, but I don't care if others do. But shepherding an alcoholic through life is not what I have in mind, it's just not fun, and a sad and serious problem. And this person had no idea he had a problem. Trust me, he did. That weekend was enough for me. Disappointment number #99,999,999. I was sad about it, but would have been a lot sadder if I'd stuck around. The substances he abused to achieve nirvana were in fact the love of his life. I was never going to be, and it's not my job (or desire) to cure a date of their addictions.

A more recent lamb chop casualty (and all these people had lovely table manners by the way, so it's not always a lamb chop that does you in) was someone very bright and intelligent, who appeared to be totally reasonable and sane. At first. Classic lamb chop situation. And then, as we got more comfortable with each other, he shared some of his private views on life. He had a penchant for science fiction movies (which I don't share, but I'm a good sport), which turn out to be his actual views about life. After a relaxing evening, he confided in me that he KNOWS that the world is going to end within the next year, possibly sooner. An unidentified planet he had been told about is going to demolish our planet shortly. Mmmm…yeah….okay, whatever. Me, I worry about my kids' safety, keeping my life in order, paying my taxes, the health of those I love, I'm not exactly worried about random planets hitting the roof of my house in the next few weeks, or ever. It got worse after that, he thought we should build a bunker together, buy a helicopter to escape and his certainty about our imminent destruction turned out to be an obsession that was beyond unnerving. Why waste my time working if we were going to be destroyed anyway?? Oy vey, I had 3 deadlines, and my publishers had not heard about the random planet, and would not have been amused at that excuse for missing my deadlines. Nor did I want to buy a helicopter or build a bunker. Apparently, we were going to have to hunt for food and fur, after The Big Destruction. I still plan to buy mine at the supermarket, and buy fur, if I do so, at the stores where I enjoy shopping. Maybe some of you believe that same theory, but for me it all became a little too Twilight Zone. Damn damn damn damn……I suddenly found myself thinking of the line in the movie "As good as it gets" where Helen Hunt says "I just want a normal boyfriend" and her mother says "There are no normal boyfriends". Yeah, maybe that's true, although I hope not. It's not too appealing to spend the rest of your life alone. On the other hand, I have no desire whatsoever to build a bunker with someone, preparing for the end of the world. That's a little too out there for me. The lamb chop factor struck again. And it took 6 months to show up. Damn again.

Then there are the people who tell you after several months that they're crazy about you, but just want to be friends. Recently, a woman I know made just that speech to a man she'd been dating who was crazy about her, and she just wasn't, and it took her a little too long to figure it out, and he was upset. He stunned her when he said "I have all the friends I need. Thanks anyway", and he got up and left right in the middle of dinner. Rude maybe, but I wish I had the guts to do that. So direct. The easy 'dates' are the ones you know you can't stand an hour into the first date. It's so easy, like apartments you don't want to rent, or jobs you don't want. The hard ones are the ones who appear just right….and then you get hit with the lamb chop factor, right between the eyes. I just hate that, and it disappoints me every time.

As I have often said, dating is not for the faint hearted, at any age. You have to be plucky, brave, willing to take some risk, be a good sport, have a sense of humor, be flexible, give it a try, survive being disappointed if it doesn't work out. But if you don't want to spend the rest of your life alone, there is just no other choice. Few people get lucky on the first try, although some do. For the rest of us, you just have to stay open, and give it your best shot. But watch out for that lamb chop factor—keep your eyes open—-it will do you in every time. My hope for you (and for myself) is that there will be no lamb chops, and no lamb chop factor, in your dating life!!! Just happy endings…..with great people whom you love, and who love you, warts and all, people who are 'on board'. Good luck!!!

 

Love, Danielle

Weekend in Amsterdam

After visiting the antique fair in Maastricht, Holland (a brief and easy 3 hour drive from Paris), I decided to stay in Amsterdam for the weekend, to discover a new city. This is very adventuresome for me, since I usually hang around home, whether in Paris or San Francisco. But alone in Paris for the month, I decided to do something different for a change, and weekends are very quiet in Paris. And it is so easy to hop from country to country in Europe, often after a very short drive. On the way to Holland, I drove through Belgium, so I was in 3 countries in 3 hours: France, Belgium, and Holland. It's a three and a half or four hour drive from Paris to Amsterdam, Holland, sort of like going from Boston to New York, except that instead of crossing several states, you cross several countries, each with different cultures, customs, food, and languages, which makes it a lot of fun. They speak Dutch in Holland, and both French and Flemish in Belgium, and it felt like an adventure.

I had actually been to Amsterdam 15 years ago, for the launching of a boat about an hour or two outside of the city, so I never got to see the city (although I had a lot of fun at the boat launch), so Amsterdam was all new to me, and I found it fascinating. It's a city of about 700,000 inhabitants, and has the feeling of a small city (nothing like New York which is electric and booming. It reminded me a little bit of San Francisco, as it's a small city, and tourism seems to be its major industry). And many or most people move around the city on bicycles, you really have to watch out for them as they whiz by you. Everyone seems to be on bikes, with babies, dogs in baskets, their groceries in little carts attached to the front of some bikes. There are bike lanes everywhere on the streets, and the whole city seems to be on bikes, which are a major means of transportation. There are taxis and trams as well, so it's relatively easy to get around, and it's a great walking city. I stayed at the same elegant old hotel I stayed at last time, sitting at the edge of a canal. The entire city is intersected by numerous canals, where boats provide taxi service, deliveries, and tours for the tourists. The city is actually below sea level, so the canals are extremely important for controlling the water flow between rivers. Apparently Amsterdam has as many canals, if not more, than Venice, although there are cars in Amsterdam as well (which there are not in Venice). People are friendly, Dutch is spoken, but most people seem to speak English as well. And the architecture of the city is decidedly Dutch, dates back to the 17th and 18th centuries in many cases, and is a little dark. It doesn't have the light, sophisticated look of Paris, but seems a bit more somber and has a totally different look than France for instance. The buildings are very square, and there is a lot of brick, and there are many churches. And many, many streets are bordering canals, and there are countless small bridges across the canals, and in places traffic gets tight. There is a definite street life there, and lots of activity on the streets until late into the night. I don't know if it's any safer than any other city today, but there are so many people on the streets, that I felt comfortable walking quite late at night, to explore a little on my first night there. Eventually, I went back to my hotel, but I felt relatively safe walking around at night.

There are lots of young people on the streets of Amsterdam, probably many of them tourists, and I heard many languages around me. The 'coffee shops' are a big draw for the young in Amsterdam (over the age of 18), which I had always heard about—–not where you can get a cup of coffee, or a bagel, or a cheeseburger, but rather these 'coffee shops' sell small amounts of marijuana, and it is legal to smoke it there. So it's quite common to see people sitting at tables outside these cafes, rolling a joint and smoking it. It's a little startling at first, but seems to be part of the landscape there. As the driver of the cab I took back to the hotel said, Amsterdam is a very 'tolerant' city, and coffee shops selling marijuana are part of that tolerance. I don't smoke marijuana, and I knew that was part of the local lore, and I noticed that there are one or several of these coffee shops on just about every block in the populated areas. And they seem to be very popular, judging by the number of people sitting there, both on my first night in the city, and the next day as I watched people sitting in the sunshine rolling joints. There were both older and younger people there, though mostly young (they must be over 18 by law), and they also sell cakes or cookies with marijuana in them. I didn't go in to check it out!! But it is definitely part of the atmosphere of the city; along with the gazillion bicycles you see everywhere.  But the coffee shops are so much in evidence that you can't ignore them either. (I did have to chuckle though, my 'evil vice' is smoking cigarettes, and yes, I know how bad it is. But after watching people roll joints and smoke them all day in outdoor cafes, in plain sight—-I was given a very stern reprimand by my hotel for smoking a cigarette in my room, and threatened with a punitive charge from them. So smoking marijuana is tolerated in Amsterdam—-but not cigarettes. We cigarette smokers are always treated like a pariah now!!! Although less so in Paris).

I indulged my own addiction the next day, which I prefer: shopping. There was great shopping. All the same brands that we see all over the world now, Diesel, Replay, etc. And some great high end shopping on one long shopping street: Gucci, Chanel, Cartier, Hermes, etc. I had a good time wandering in and out of stores a little. (At least here, I could afford a little indulgence—which I couldn't at the fabulously expensive antique fair the day before!!). I had a great time shopping. And on the drive back to my hotel at the end of the day, I was driven past another legend I had always been told about in Amsterdam: the red zone. Prostitution is legal in Holland, prostitutes are registered, have a license, pay taxes, etc. And on certain streets, somewhat mixed in with residential buildings and more ordinary shops, are store windows, where instead of showing shoes, groceries or blouses, there are women in bras and G strings or lacy underwear, literally sitting in a shop window, waiting for customers to buy the services they offer. I guess I'm a little over the hill or out of it, but I found it really startling and amazing. All the more so, because mothers with young children are whizzing past on bikes, taking their groceries home, or families stroll by paying no attention to these women who must be considered commonplace there. The driver explained to me that these neighbourhoods are a mixture of families, hookers, sex shops, fine dining restaurants, businesses, it's all kind of blended together. And I was a little stunned, watching it all. There are women of every shape, size, age, nationality, race or description, sitting in their windows waiting for customers, and in a few cases men are negotiating in the doorway. I find the whole concept of prostitution depressing—-having 5 daughters, and being a woman, I can't think of a worse fate for a woman, and it can't be a happy life, but they all seemed quite content with what they were doing, and no one else seemed upset about it. I'm not sure I would be thrilled to walk my five year old son or daughter past a street level shop window with a hooker in it, in fact I know I wouldn't like it, to say the least. But no one else seemed bothered. And quite remarkably, in one street, there were 'older' women in the windows, and 'older' is a major understatement, they looked old enough to be my grandmother, and there they were, showing off their stuff, slightly more covered, but not much. So along with the very fun shopping street I enjoyed and indulged myself in, I saw the famous coffee shops that sell marijuana openly, and the hookers in the windows. I felt very adventuresome—-although I can't be too prissy or righteous, since there are hookers as well on the street where I live in Paris, but they wear street clothes, overcoats, and are fully dressed and usually operate discreetly out of cars parked along the curb (and are usually chased away by police if they're too obvious, although we all know they're there, and some of them aren't too young either, and some are in fact older than I am by quite a bit), but in Amsterdam it is far more blatant, as they sit in frilly lingerie a foot away from you, in a store window, smiling enticingly at passers by. Personally, I preferred looking in the windows at Gucci and Chanel on the other street, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't fascinated by the hookers in the windows. It is an amazing cultural phenomenon, particularly geographically blended in to normal city, residential and even family life as they are. And no, once in Amsterdam, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Hmmm…….

Other than those somewhat (to foreigners) unusual phenomenon, it is a pretty little city, lively with lots of people on the streets, and some important cultural features. The Van Gogh Museum, notably, currently a Picasso show, the beautiful canals, and lovely churches. I am sure there is much to discover about Amsterdam that I never got to, but it was an interesting visit, and I enjoyed it. And after cruising past the hookers in the windows (I hate to admit it, but I gaped from my car windows. I will confess I am not 'cool' or sophisticated enough to be blasé about it, even living in Paris (where prostitution is not legal, so a lot more clandestine), and it quite stunned me). But there are lots of beautiful aspects to Amsterdam, which have nothing to do with their 'tolerance', —and after cruising by the famous windows, I had a very proper and civilized 'high tea' at my hotel, which was fun, delicious and old fashioned, with tea sandwiches and scones. Like most cities, Amsterdam is a city of contrasts, the old, the new, the historical, the modern, the business side of life, the charm of a very old city and the lovely canals (a family in a kayak drifted past my hotel windows in the morning, and there are swans on some of the canals), it definitely has its beauty, and its very stately proper side in contrast to the 'racier' coffee shops (which actually don't seem too racy, just busy), and the ladies in the windows. It was definitely a fun and interesting weekend. I had a chance to see my Dutch publishers before I left, I had a good time, thoroughly enjoyed my shopping and discovering the city, and then headed back to Paris, a mere four hour drive back home to familiar turf. It's good to see something new for a change, and made me feel very adventuresome…..and I'm sure it will all turn up in a book somewhere!!! It was fun and very different for me, and the residents of Amsterdam were very friendly. It was an interesting, relaxing, and enjoyable weekend.

Love, Danielle

Fantastic Antique Fair

For years, I have wanted to see the biggest and most impressive, and best known antique fair in Europe, which happens in Maastricht, Holland every year. The Paris Biennale is incredibly impressive too, and happens every other year in Paris in September, and I always enjoy it. But Maastricht is supposed to be the very best there is, and it's yearly, in March. Although I am usually in Paris for the month of March, somehow I always get busy doing other things. My college age kids have spring break then, and I try to convince them to come to Paris and sometimes succeed, and my three daughters who work in fashion come to the ready to wear shows in Paris in March every year, so usually I just can't get away. But this year, sadly, because of their father's recent death and everyone's drooping spirits, none of my kids came to Paris in March, and I found myself with extra time on my hands, which gave me an opportunity to do something I rarely do, move around Europe a bit on my own. I always stay home in Paris, and enjoy my friends and life there. But looking for some distraction myself from recent events, I decided to go to the antique fair in Maastricht this year, and I went on the first day it was open, and planned to stay in Holland for the weekend. The weekends are always very quiet in Paris anyway, as people spend time with their families or go away for the weekend, so I would have been at home with nothing much to do anyway. I was excited to go to the Maastricht fair.

Even living in Europe for part of the year, I often forget how close things are here, and how easy to get to. It was a 3 hour drive, in very pretty countryside, driving through France, and Belgium, to reach a town called Maastricht, in Holland. And to put it simply, the antique fair there was spectacular, and lived up to its excellent reputation. I had never been to Holland before, and suddenly from the comfort of being in a country where I speak the language fluently (French), I found myself in an unfamiliar situation for me, where I don't speak the language. And Dutch is an intriguing language which sounds like nothing familiar to me, it's all guttural sounds, and probably remotely related to German, which I understand a little, and suddenly I couldn't understand a word around me, although I soon discovered that most people there spoke French, and almost everyone English, but nonetheless it was a challenge, and reminded me that despite the short, easy 3 hour drive, I was in another country.

The entrance to the hall where the fair was held were a series of long hallways, upholstered in beige fabric, with geometric, textured patterns in a dark red. The patterns were actually dark red carnations embedded in the wall, and really beautiful. And every few feet there were huge black 'bowls', about three feet across and three feet high, on pedestals, filled with different colored tulips, for which Holland is famous. We were off to a very handsome start!! And within minutes, I was walking down wide alleys, with 'stands'/booths on either side, filled with gorgeous antique wares. The stands are rented by antique shops and art galleries from all over the world, and like all art fairs, they have to be accepted into the fair by a committee, and once they are they spend an absolute fortune on their stands (in many cases, hundreds of thousands of dollars in an important fair). There are inlaid floors, upholstered walls, interesting shapes to the stands, expert lighting to show off the art and antiques. It is very professionally and well done, and these stands lined the long alleys of the fair. (The alleys themselves were named after important streets around the world, Madison Avenue, Champs Elysees, etc, so you could figure out where you were). There were maps to show the layout of the fair, and at regular intervals, large floor plans to make it even clearer, with color coded sections. There was one for antiques, another for art/paintings, another for 'contemporary design' (mostly furniture and some objects), and sprinkled throughout the fair were both antique and current jewelers, with some truly remarkable pieces.  I began in the antique section, and the quality of what I saw was astounding, and so were the prices. It was like visiting a museum. There was a jeweled clock, some very ancient archaeological art from Egypt, Asian art and furniture, beautiful French, English and Chinese furniture and mirrors, everything of the highest quality imaginable, with prices to match. It was truly dazzling and a little overwhelming at first, but I soon got the hang of the lay out and went from alley to alley admiring absolutely gorgeous antiques and art. And when I needed a break, I stopped at one of the jewelers and admired what they had. If you like antiques, this was Nirvana, and lived up to everything I had heard about it over the years. And the paintings in the art section were just as impressive as the antiques, everything from Picasso to Renoir, and important Italian and Flemish paintings.

There were several restaurants set up, all of which had never ending lines of people waiting to get a table, so I didn't try, and at the very end, I went to the 'self service' restaurant set up, and had very good food there as well. It was "An Event". And it was very interesting listening to the people around me, mostly Dutch, and the next language I heard the most of was Italian, and then British, and after that a smattering of Germans and French people, but far fewer than the other nationalities. I think I only heard one American, either it's too far to come, or they don't know about this antique fair, but Americans were not in evidence. And many of the dealers were British, German, and French, as well as other nationalities. Everything about the fair was exciting, the goods being shown, the people visiting the show, the way it was all exhibited, and the atmosphere of excitement about it.

Among the jewelers, there were a number of important jewelers who deal in antique jewelry. And among them Wartski in London and A La Vieille Russie in New York, both of whom are also noted and important dealers of Faberge, the enamel and jeweled work of Carl Faberge, all made before the Russian Revolution for the Czar and other Russian nobles. Faberge made beautiful small boxes and cigarette cases, animals carved out of precious stones, and his famed Faberge eggs, which sell for millions of dollars. But among the modern jewelers, without question, Graff from London, put on the most spectacular show, and does at every fair they join. The only thing more spectacular is their store in London. Graff has long since (in my opinion) outshone Harry Winston, in outstanding diamonds and precious stones, and is the established top of the pinnacle of world renowned jewelers. True to form, he had impressive windows full of fabulous jewels, giving on the 'alleys' of the show, and even more incredible stuff in his stand. Major, Major Wow!!!….from the hard bangle bracelet comprised of 65 carats of emerald cut diamonds, to the 55 carat (each) yellow diamond cushion cut and white diamond  earrings in their window, topped by the 118 carat yellow diamond ring, (about 2 inches square in size) inside the stand. Blindingly beautiful all of it, fit for a queen or a Maharajah!!! (There was beautiful Indian jewelry at the show too!!). The 65 carat white diamond bangle bracelet sells for 3 million dollars. I didn't have the guts to ask the prices on the rest. But I'm sure the prices were in keeping with the size, importance and beauty of the pieces. Graff delivers the most impressive jewelry every time!!!

No question, the items at the show were pricey. There was a fun Lucite seat that rocked back and forth, with striations inside and looked like a marble, and was selling for $300,000. And it was certainly unique. All of it was out of my price range, but it was just fun to see. Exciting and beautiful, and well worth going to. I can't wait to go again next year, just to see it!!

And when I left the show, instead of heading back to Paris, I drove an hour and a half to Amsterdam for the weekend, a city where I have never been, and thought it might be fun to discover….so more about that in my next blog!!! But my little adventure to Maastricht to see the antique fair was definitely worth the trip!!!

Love, Danielle

Weekend in Deauville

Hi Everybody,

I recently experienced a relaxing weekend at a beach town in Normandie. It's still cold in France, but it was fun to get away even in winter. Deauville is a pretty, old fashioned beach town, about an hour and a half's drive from Paris. Lovely beach, some beautiful old hotels, a main street full of shops, and a lively Casino. It was gray and drizzly for most of the weekend, but fun to be there anyway.

I stayed at a beautiful old hotel, which I could easily imagine my grandmother staying at, with flowered wall paper, old furniture, and a view of the ocean. The hotel was immaculate and the service was terrific, and the food was pretty good. And just being near the ocean, and relaxing, I slept like a rock, and took it easy after some very busy and stressful weeks.

I'm not a gambler, but I spent an hour in the casino, both evenings that I was there, and it was fun to watch the people. I played the slot machines the first night, for a very short time, and spent about 20 minutes at the blackjack table the second night, which was fun too. And I quit after a total loss for the weekend of $100.00. But I thoroughly enjoyed watching the people playing.

There is an American Film Festival in Deauville every September, which I think is fairly well attended, and the cabanas lining the walkway along the beach are each named after a famous American movie star of the past, so there is a certain sense of homage to Hollywood there.

It was just nice to get out of Paris for a few days, much as I love it. But it's always fun to do something new and different. I had been to Deauville for the day in the past, but had never stayed there. And I'm so glad I did. I just wanted to share the 'adventure' with you. It's a pretty, little beach town, and I always enjoy the beach anywhere, any time of year, even in winter. So that's what I've been up to!!!

Love, Danielle

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday

In Stores:  July 12, 2011

Valerie Wyatt is the queen of gracious living and the arbiter of taste. Since her long-ago divorce, she's worked hard to reach the pinnacle of her profession and to create a camera-ready life in her Fifth Avenue penthouse. So why is she so depressed? All the hours with her personal trainer, the careful work of New York's best hairdressers, cosmetic surgeons, and her own God-given bone structure and great looks can't fudge the truth or her lies about it: Valerie is turning sixty.

Valerie's daughter, April, has no love life, no rest, and no prospect of that changing in the foreseeable future. Her popular one-of-a-kind restaurant in downtown New York, where she is chef and owner, consumes every ounce of her attention and energy. Ready or not, though, April's life is about to change, in a tumultuous transformation that begins the morning it hits her: She's thirty. And what does she have to show for it? A restaurant, no man, no kids.

Jack Adams once threw a football like a guided missile. Twelve years after retiring from the NFL, he is the most charismatic sports analyst on TV, a man who has his pick of the most desirable twentysomething women. But after a particularly memorable Halloween party, Jack wakes up on his fiftieth birthday, his back thrown out of whack, feeling every year his age.

A terrifying act of violence, an out-of-the-blue blessing, and two extremely unlikely love affairs soon turn lives inside out and upside down. In a novel brimming with warmth and insight, beginning on one birthday and ending on another, Valerie, April, and Jack discover that life itself can be a celebration—and that its greatest gifts are always a surprise.