Givin’ em something to blog about…

Hi, so, you know how the story goes…

I go under. I don’t blog for awhile. You email me. I tell you I will blog again soon.

And finally, eventually, don’t I always?

In addition to working on various upcoming projects, I’ve been featured on a couple of blogs since the last time we spoke. Please check out my interviews by clicking on these links…

The Brown Bookshelf

Sormag

More updates soon!

xoxo and lovvvveeee!!!!

pmb

Like Netflix for magazines… kinda…

I absolutely LOVE Netflix and until now there hasn’t been anything else comparable worth raving about. Like. I. Said. Until… now.

Do you, like me, love magazines? Well ever since my sister started me off when I was very young and, for a gift, she gave me my very own subscription to YM magazine, I’ve loved the feeling of having my favorite magazines delivered right to my door. Now I even give magazine subscriptions for gifts, including my God children.

And now comes Maghound! Oh I love it.

For one monthly fee you can get multiple magazine subscriptions! You’ve just got to check it out…

www.maghound.com

Love it!

pmb

Have you read RED?

Red: Teenage Girls in America Write on What Fires Up Their Lives Today (Plume ISBN 978-0-452-28983-3) is a wonderful collection of essays edited by the enormously talented Amy Goldwasser–as in Elle, Seventeen, The New Yorker, Vogue, Runner’s World, The New York Times, New York… etc. (Okay, I also think she is exceptionally jazzy for having also hailed from the Midwest, smile, but I digress…)

After recently meeting Amy, I read, in one weekend, my autographed copy of RED, now out in paperback. In regard to how the eclectic list of teen essayists was compiled, Amy says in her introduction, “It was really important to me that Red not be based on the stories of a privileged few in large cities on the coast. This book is a true representation of girls across the country, writing across the spectrum of geographic, socioeconomic, political, racial, and religious upbringings.”

DON’T. YOU. JUST. LOVE. THAT?!?!? I sure do.

Teen Vogue calls Red, “A must-have.” And I agree.

I attended a panel discussion this evening with Amy as moderator. Three of the essayists were present–Kelly Otterness, Olive Panter, Zoe Mendelson and Maya-Catherine Popa–and I thought it remarkable that, while on one hand I wanted to encourage them and applaud these young talented women, clearly they don’t need such validation. These women know who they are. Hopefully, after reading this book you will, too! Out now in paperback, I highly recommend it for gift-giving… (Sorry, the season is approaching and why not start making suggestions now? smile…)

I love Red and particularly admire Amy’s colorblind inclusiveness of its authors. I hope she’s igniting not a trend but a new truth in literature.

Sigh.

I’m a bit inspired tonight. (Those closest to me would say… Philana when are you NOT inpired? LOL) But seriously, our country is evolving into an America where so many previously unheard voices are carving out ways to co-exist and tonight I’m particularly thankful for that.

I don’t think it necessary, in our progress, to eradicate any voices in order for others to be heard, yet balance in literature is in desperate need. Entertainment is a force of influence on young girls and it is warming to have some of the void of diversity filled via this book. There is so much room for everyone at the table. And it is okay to have a selection of books from which to choose, no?

Red is a new classic, a quiet storm collection of voices–not shouting–but just speaking… and being heard. You’ve gotta dig that.

Dr. Maya Angelou put it best last week, when she simply concluded, “I’m an American, baby!” Thank God for a country where everyone has a right–and is getting more opportunities–to be heard. Amy Goldwasser has made a way for 58 teenaged girls to do just that.

Get this book! Read it. And, as always…. love!

xoxo…
pmb

UPDATE: For any New Yorkers reading, this just in via email from Amy Goldwasser: 

Please join two sensational lineups of local and visiting RED authors, reading from new work:
THURS, DEC 11, 6:30p
The Lower East Side Tenement Museum
108 Orchard Street (two doors south of Delancey)

TUES, DEC 16, 7:00p
Community Bookstore
143 Seventh Avenue (in Park Slope, between Carroll and Garfield Sts.)

Hope you can make it out and support! pmb

Winter Divas…

So, the other day my friend Jae sent a “girl talk” email, a list of “5 things that every woman should have in her wardrobe.” She wanted to know if we all agreed. And, for the most part, I did. The black slacks. The perfect white shirt. The perfect pair of jeans–though I rarely wear them–okay, yes. I agree. I can’t remember what the other two were but it was definitely a list of staples. Okay, I did think to myself that added to the list should be an essential black leather skirt for those dump him and move on goodbye dinners–Oops… Did I just say that?

Anyhoo, so I pondered further…

What then are the five things that every diva–in the fabulous sense of the word–must have in her winter wardrobe?

1. A cropped leather jacket, preferably black. My personal favorite is by Kenneth Cole who managed to keep the cut sexy but classic.

Love it. This year, I’ve also got my eye on Andrew Marc.

2. A distinct accent hat, at least one. Fashionistas are buzzing about the resurgence of hats but actually true divas–from the Kentucky Derby to the Cowgirls in Dallas to church ladies to England’s most fabulous–never stopped rocking them–and not just on bad hair days. The key is to downplay accessories when wearing one and to always wear it as opposed to vice versa. A hat should be an accent not a statement. A true diva, I have a hat box collection full of everything from cowgirl hats (including the one from Blame It on Eve’s author photo) to Kangols to fedoras to the Cooley High looking floppy one I swiped from my dad’s 1970’s collection on its way to the Goodwill

*BTW, In regard to hats, stay tuned for a very VERY special guest in “The Love Spot”!!!

3. Knee-high boots. My current favorites? The “Nora” by Gabriella Rocha.

4. Studs. Now, I happen to be a pearl or diamond stud diva, but birthstones are nice. What a fabulous statement–a glistening stud revealed after the removal of muffs or a
lovely glisten against a low pulled wool hat.

5. A lovely fur jacket. DSCLAIMER–in true diva fashion, it is fine, celebratory in fact, if it’s faux. Those of you who recall the orginial “It’s all love blogspot” know that I must say that it is–as I DO NOT WANT ANOTHER RUN IN WITH the you know who people from the ethical treatment of the you know whats–okay to rock faux, ladies. Rock! Faux! It’s fine even fabulous. Just keep it fly…

Love!
pmb

Random thoughts… why I love NYC…

Having exhausted the cash I had in my wallet, I had to have the cashier at Walbaums charge the balance to my debit card.

So, I really was sincere when I left the store, when a panhandler asked if I had a dollar to spare.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “Just spent my last dollar. I don’t have any more cash on me.”

His reply?

After smacking his lips, “You could have just used your debit card.”

Only. In. New. York. Only here, yall. What a city.

Heart cha!

pmb

On why I love coffee shops (and especially Starbucks these days)…

The funny thing is, I don’t drink coffee. 

Had my last sip at Cosmo’s on E. Wooster in Bowling Green, Ohio, home of Bowling Green State University, my collegiate alma mater. Probably, it was on a late night with my fellow inspired peers. Probably, we were discussing life, our futures, the world. It’s complexities. What it could, might or would probably entail. How we were going to change it. 

Maybe it was while shooting the shit, sitting with such ease yet such an intense need to cling to every word, hoping to learn from my writing profs, Dr. Messer and Dr. Zackel, who always had the time to chat. About writing. About life. And with whom the silence, when it came, was never awkward. I miss those days.

But I do not miss coffee.  

I still frequent coffee shops despite Cosmo’s being hundreds of miles and several years away. The atmosphere, for a writer, an intellectual, a thinker is just a perfect mix of people and mood and quiet inspiration. Just a few things I observed/overheard over the summer while writing in coffee shops throughout New York City…

“Honey, I’m still in New Jersey. Working over. Call you back later…” ~ A woman, mid forties, leaving a voice mail as she sits nestled and holding hands with a man behind me. 

Coffee shop employee: Sorry. We’re closing. The machines are off.

Fly urban guy rockin’ tats and a hoodie: Man, come on… I can’t just get a quick latte?

Ah, as a writer, I love it! 

I’ve met musicians and artists and teachers and fellow writers. I share space with regulars–a med student and a woman out of work who researches/sends resumes via email all day–and we often encourage one another. “How’s it going?” or “Any news?” We offer to one another. I do not even know their names. Yet, we are on a common pulse. There is something lovely about a coffee shop’s atmosphere. Particularly, when you are are regular. 

Just today, a man sitting near me in workboots and garage shop gear got a call on his cell phone. “Nothing much,” he said. “Just sipping a cup and flipping through a mag. Probably head on home in a bit. Long day.”

Today, the lady at Border’s “Seatlle’s Best” Cafe knew my order before I even opened my mouth. I could do nothing but smile. It’s a subculture, I believe, the coffee house experience. And sometimes, if you frequent often enough, it becomes familial in atmosphere. 

These are some of the reasons I love coffee shops, though I don’t drink coffee. 

And there is a particular reason why I really, really love Starbucks these days!

It was a Monday, in Manhattan, the last time I recalled having my sunglasses. On Tuesday, I spent the evening at a Starbucks in Queens. On Wednesday, the sun was gleaming. I reached for my sunglasses, most often sitting atop my head, and I realized…

I had not seen nor worn them since Monday. I retraced all of my steps, checked all of my bags and pockets and… even in places of the house where I haven’t been in days… like a box my mother sent a month ago and under the bathroom sink. Panic will do that. My mind raced. Had I thrown them away? I searched my car. I searched under the couch. I searched…

And I realized. I would likely never see my sunglasses again. I had visions of some fly mama smiling as she hailed a cab, looking nothing like me at all yet familiar in the eyes. 

OH, before you think, “Get over it, Philana. Sunglasses. Not. A. Big. Deal,” which I know you probably are…

GUCCI. Yes. Gucci sunglasses. And on top of that, a GIFT from someone. And I’d only had them a year. I do not covet material things nor do I worship them but… forgive me, I kinda have a thing for Gucci. And for Gucci gifts. Can my fly girls make some noise, please? 

{{{{{{{{{{{{ insert applause and cheers from fellow fly girls}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

So anyhow, on Thursday, as life does go on, I’m in Starbucks, waiting on my order and, in a weak and probably pitifully hopeless tone, I asked Gabe, the guy who often waits on me, “Do you guys have a lost and found at all?”

One eyebrow raised, he says, “Why… You lose something?”

“Yeah…”

“What’d you lose?”

“(sigh) Sun (gulp) glasses…”

He smiles, “Gucci?”

So, it turned out that the last time I had them hadn’t been Monday in Manhattan, as I remembered. It was Tuesday. In Queens. At Starbucks. And they’d been there ever since. 

They could have put them on Ebay. They could have sold them to a friend. They could have kept them. Instead, Gabe informed me they’d kept them safely in back, “Hoping that the owner would check in.” He was pleasantly surprised that they were mine. I was pleasantly surprised that they were now back in my hand.

Okay, I’m lying. I was ECSTATIC. I wanted to jump over the counter and hug them all. I wanted to interrupt everyone working in the entire coffee shop that day and tell them my wonderful news. I wanted to cry. 

Trust me…. I lived most of my life, until last year, without owning a pair of Gucci sunglasses. I would have been fine without them, no doubt. And it was the sentiment behind the sunglasses that mattered, not the gift itself, so I had accepted that as well. 

But what excited me the most was knowing, having yet another pleasant reminder, that karma does come back. That when you try to do good sometimes it will come back to you when you least expect it. That there are, despite what we sometimes feel to believe, just really good people existing in this world. 

A few of them work at a Starbucks in Queens. 

I left a phat tip in their jar that day and made sure to tell the manager. As luck, or divine order perhaps, would have it, Rosa Grajeda, the fabulous woman who is the district manager happened to be in the house for a meeting that day. Of course, I requested that the manager ask her to stop by my table if she had time before leaving. 

And she did. It was a moment, of course, of encouragement for her–knowing the type of honest employees that Starbucks has working for them–but it was also a moment, woman to woman, fly chic to fly chic, of understanding. Gucci. Okay?

I promised Gabe and Rosa that I’d blog about this experience, one that I’ll never forget. And I promise you that that this is just yet another reason why I really love being a member of the coffee shop culture. 

Having drank more than a lifetime’s share of coffee in undergrad by that way, I now drink tea. 

Grande (or Medium, like today) “Refresh”. Depending on the lingo of house I’m in. I love ‘em all. 

xoxo,

P. Marie 

Fashion WEEK? Fashion FOREVER… (an ode to Oscar de la Renta)

Oscar de la Renta’s name is synonymous with authentic grace and true sophistication and his spring 2009 RTW prevailed as evidence sustained.

In what is the ongoing subliminal conversation in our society regarding fashion—it’s place in history, whether or not it is art, it’s contribution to popular culture—de la Renta’s is perhaps the brand relied upon for the tried, the true, and the proven.

When I was a little girl and my mother spoke of glamour, so often it was the work of Oscar de la Renta that we discussed. As a young woman now, I truly understand his gift of elegance.

Oscar de la Renta’s spring 2009 collection, showcased during Fashion Week, was a show void of all the ballyhoos we see with so many rising fashion stars/artists. There was no evidence that de la Renta may in any way be surrendering to the budding competition amongst designers for artistic expressionism.

Even the makeup exuded sophistication—eyes in smoked out glamour, cheeks shimmering in subtle pink and lips in a color described as “antique gold”!

And the palate of the fabrics—black, camel brown, Kelly green, blush pink and true red—proved that there remains in fashion the presence of classic refinement.

Not to worry. Oscar de la Renta offered hints of his brilliant innovation as well–the classic pantsuit with it’s relaxed-structure for example.

The show was Jackie O’s glamour defined (her sister Lee Radizwell was on the front row) and Vogue’s Anna Wintour’s sophistication explained (she too sat immediate to the stage.)

But also, as proof to Oscar’s appeal to us in younger generations who are sometimes less impressed by what’s hot and more by what is timeless, so sat Genevieve Jones and even Jennifer “J-Lo” Lopez (one of my personal style icons) up close.

Remember how Jenna Bush requested de la Renta to design her wedding gown this past spring? How evidence was that?

If grace were given a scent and elegance a smell, that would describe the imagined aroma present during Oscar de la Renta’s show. It was—as is his legacy—pure, refreshing, timeless and beautiful.

Love!

P. Marie

On Presidents… (with a note to Howard University!)

Somewhere, I still have in my memoirs a signed letter from our beloved late president, Ronald Wilson Reagan. I was in the third grade when I received it, a congratulatory note for making the honor roll which encouraged me to keep it up.

In my child’s mind, I truly believed that sitting in his oval office with Nancy one day, President Reagan had really read my grade card and actually knew who I was, a young and spunky child living in Toledo, Ohio. That motivated me for years. And, no, I do not mind at all if you think that’s corny. I was a kid, okay?

Years later, I was a long-term substitute teacher and–in Regis & Kelly fashion–I’d start every day with my mug (of Gatorade) and we’d discuss the newspaper or what they’d seen on the news that morning (a daily extra credit assignment). One day I had them all write letters to our president (George W. Bush) and, together, we walked up the street from the school and each of us mailed our letter.

There swelled the same pride in the hearts of my students that–many years ago–had grown in my own upon reading Ronald Reagan’s letter. They, too, believed that they mattered to the president, that he might actually care that they existed. That means something to a child, you know?

I had a third grade student–Diamonte was his name–who, on my first day as their long-term substitute, told me that he wanted to someday become the first Black president of the United States. Gifted with intelligence, I didn’t doubt that he could. Hopelessly affected by inspiration, I called him “Mr. President” for the entire school year, as did his classmates follow suit.

Long before we were inspired today to “Barock the Vote”, I, and thousands of other college students, exerienced a similar “Change” worth believing in

I was a freshman when Dr. Sidney A . Ribeau became the first Black president at Bowling Green State University, a big college in a small rural town in Ohio. It was an inspiring period of history and a milestone in my collegiate memories.

Under Dr. Ribeau’s leadership, we–as his student body–were stimulated to believe in our own voices. I became a two-term senator in the Undergraduate Student Government, Coordinator of Multi-Cultural Affairs on the cabinet for three terms and for two years in a row served on the Student-Faculty Advisory Committee. A desire to make a difference inspired me to want to dedicate myself in this way but it was Dr. Ribeau’s leadership that propelled me–and the many others who served–to believe our actions worthwhile.

I remember a group of us college kids campaigning, once in the rain even, for President Bill Clinton’s re-election and also for the election of local politicians.

All because of an innate American desire, to have a leader in office who we felt truly cared.

During my years at BGSU, it was not unusual to see Dr. Ribeau on campus and have him ask, “How are things going?” and, upon answering him, to feel in your heart and see in his eyes that he really cared. He didn’t have to know your name and you didn’t have to be doing anything special to make him say hello. It was evident in his presence that Dr. Ribeau just wanted each of us to be our personal best.

I will never forget it, my senior year at BGSU, when Dr. Ribeau invited some of us who’d served as student leaders over to his home for dinner… just as an effort to say to us, “Job well done.”

I will never forget it, the tears welling in my eyes on graduation day and the flood gates that opened for them when Dr. Ribeau–who gave our commencement address–mentioned my name. Something ignited inside of me. I would, I decided then, take with me and hold dearly his encouragement to be our best in society.

Nor, will I ever forget it, just four years after graduating, returning to BGSU as an alumni to give the keynote commencement address. I walked in with Dr. Ribeau and sat beside him on stage. And, though a budding novelist, I was still his starry eyed student inspired by a president who led in a way that validated all of our endeavors. I thanked him then and I will always be grateful for having studied under Dr. Ribeau’s leadership.

This is Dr. Ribeau’s first year at his new home, Howard University, and I pray that the lovely people in D.C. are good to him. RIbeau’s is a leadership in which to truly cherish.

And ours, The United States, a country in which to remember that our leader can–and should–be the someone that even those not yet old enough to vote truly believe cares. May we all, no matter if you vote Senator John McCain or Senator Barack Obama for president, remember this on November 4th! Here’s to presidents who not only represent, but also inspire us to be the change we want to see in the world.

Love!

P. Marie

Guess who’s back in BLOG effect!

Welcome to “The Love Spot”, previously known as the “It’s All Love Spot”.

It’s been a year (can you believe it) since I’ve blogged. And a lot has changed.

For one, I returned (full time) to my beloved NYC, a place that holds the best of the world and also the worst; and is yet beautifully harmonious. What’s good in NYC remains humbled by what isn’t and what isn’t remains inspired by what is. You can feel it in the atmosphere.

And, as an artist, NYC is an everflowing fountain of inspiration from which to drink. Born thirsty, I can appreciate that.

That being said, no matter where you live, always find a way to water your own grass. What’s truly green, emerald even, is always usually right under your own feet.

And so, in noticing my absence, some of you have emailed me over the last twelve months just to say “Hello.” or even “Um… helloooo?” I appreciate you all. I truly do. It’s a blessing to be thought of and I am glad to be back blogging!

During my period of blog (and Myspace) disconnect, I’ve missed so many of you.

I look forward to hearing from my loyal (are you still?) readers. Roddy, Rome, Margarite (aka TV Nista), Sunny, Rocky to name a few… are you still out there????

There are many others, including my loyal “anonymous” people (who inspired me to disallow comments), but with whom I’ve missed as well. I hope you’re still around, too.

Or, maybe you’re new to my blog? Welcome! To recap:

In a world oversaturated with harsh critics and gratuitious haterism, “The Love Spot” is a place to lounge in fabulousness. The air inside this area of the blogosphere is a little different, you’ll see. Not better, per se, but an alternative to gossip and criticism, which rightfully has it’s place in the world as well.

If you have good news, a “must buy” or “must hear” or “must read” or “must see” fashion item, cd, book or movie that you think should be celebrated, hit me up! (And, no, I do not accept payment to promote anything in this blog. Never have.)

But together, let’s get lifted. Life is too fly and too fabulous to waste time on things we don’t enjoy. Let’s celebrate what we do. The only rule in this house is love. Sound good?

Love you! Miss you. Mean it!

P. Marie