Tonight, through a glass darkly, I spied with my little eye Fran Lebowitz sitting outside at a cafe, drinking Pellegrino and smoking. She was joined by Graydon Carter, who was wearing a plaid blazer and shorts and deck shoes, and then some gangly young guy in a Tom Wolfe suit.
Lately I am thinking about an article I read about Isaac Mizrahi and this excerpt that I pasted into my "Stickies." (I find it creepy when people refer to Post-It notes as "stickies." I don't know why. It's like the babytalk name for Post-Its.) Anyway. Isaac:
As a child, Mr. Mizrahi said, he dreamed of being a raconteur: the Ã¼ber-dinner guest sprinkling bon mots over red wine and beef Bolognese. "My biggest goal and biggest ambition in life was to be a great conversationalist," he said. "I care about clothes and design, but more than anything I care about being this unscripted personality."
This is precisely what I want. I want to be exactly all those things. Fran Lebowitz is the apotheosis of the unscripted personality. This book convinced me I could be a writer. It declared funny and smart were important. If I could be anyone, I'd be a raconteur, an Ã¼ber-dinner guest sprinkling bon mots over red wine and beef Bolognese, every single night of my life. I'd have gout from all that rich food, but I think I'd be good at it.