Just Say No

Ladies, why does Ms. Lohan look like an aging porn star desperate to hold on to her youth? Let's just say there is such a thing as partying too hard.

Finally, Playboy Features the "Everywoman"

Too bad she still isn't a "real" woman...

Summer of Substance

This summer, I have been indulging in some fabulous new television shows featuring some incredible, real women (i.e. not silicone-stuffed barbies in bikinis). It's high time we got the spotlight! Here are my faves:


Ruby is a plus size, beautiful woman from Savannah working hard to overcome her food addiction and get down to a healthy weight. Her battle is courageous, touching, inspiring and quite often hilarious. If you haven't seen her show on the Style network yet, do yourself a favor and check it out. I promise you will fall in love with this fabulous woman.



Another plus size beauty to grace the small screen this summer is Brooke Elliot of Drop Dead Diva fame. This show is funny, smart and 100% girlie. I simply love how Jane (played by Elliot) can be flipping her hair and squealing with joy over a Prada handbag one minute and then citing legal case precedent with expertise the next. This show marries my love of style and glamour with my passion for courtroom dramas. And I just adore Brooke! I dare you not to get hooked on this show.


And finally, though small in stature, Edie Falco packs a wallop as Nurse Jackie on Showtime's half-hour dramedy of the same name. This show is edgy, funny and sometimes down right dirty as Jackie copes with an addiction to pain killers, a demanding job, two daughters, one husband, and a lover. Need I say more? Check it out.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Los Angeles has a lot to offer its residents: the Hollywood Bowl, The Getty Center, miles and miles of bike paths along the beaches, street after street of trendy boutiques and gourmet dining, and lots of hills. Hills that sometimes catch on fire...

The photo above was taken today while traveling north on La Brea Avenue. The massive smoke cloud is from the fire in La Canada Flintridge. The photo below was taken from the courtyard of my apartment building.

Chick Lit = Rich Lit?

Salon.com featured an interesting article on the revamping of "chick lit" in a world where the economy has more women worried about buying groceries than buying designer shoes. But the article seems to promote the idea that chick lit was all about the super rich living high fashion lives. Or simply nothing more than "shopping and fucking."

Huh?

What about Bridget Jones's Diary, celebrated as the "birh" of chick lit? She certainly didn't live richly, and more often than not she was worried about finding a job and figuring out who she was than affording designer duds. And then what about most of Marian Keyes' work which featured women trying to overcome divorce, alcoholism, abuse, AND still advance in their careers. These women didn't have time to worry about a pair of friggin' Manolo Blahniks.

And this is precisely why chick lit has been so villified. Because a few books focused on high fashion and folly, the rest of the genre got labeled as fluff. I dare anyone to read Rachel's Holiday or Getting Over It and call it fluff.

What makes chick lit chick lit is the voice. Youthful, (and that includes women in their 30s and 40s), defiant, and sometimes a little bit lost. At its best, chick lit is feminist literature for a 21st century woman. At its worst, it's frilly tales of clothes-whoring Paris Hilton wannabes.

I don't know why people can't see the difference.

Ciao,
Lucie

Feminism and the Modern Woman

I just picked up a new book the other day, drawn to its Tiffany box blue cover, and then drawn in by the premise. Four modern women struggling with what it means to be a woman in the modern world. The voice, the eye-catching pastel cover, the promise of promiscuous women bonding over cocktails and boyfriend dramas, are all tell-tale signs of the genre formerly known as "chick lit," but now being called by any number of vague names so as not to invoke controversy.

What is the controversy? you may wonder. The misconception that "chick lit" is degrading to women. That it is nothing more than shallow tales of equally shallow women obsessed with fashion and finding a man. Sure, there were plenty of books that featured such storylines. But they weren't good examples of the genre. They were authors hopping on the bandwagon. Authors who really didn't have much to say. And those books killed chick lit.

I, for one, love the term chick lit. It defines for me the genre succinctly. Young, urban women dealing with issues of their day: men, careers, beauty and finding meaning in their lives. It was literature for a new generation. A generation of women, who, as the author of Commencement says, "have all the opportunities in the world, but no clear idea about what to choose."

I am hoping that this new work of feminist fiction is a harbinger of things to come. I have been sorely missing the fun, witty voices of modern women living lives that include sex, style, ambition and that intrepid search for the meaning of life. Because these are important issues we face everyday. Because we have so many choices to make and no clear guidance on how to make them. We can't look to our mothers for advice because they didn't have the same choices we do. We can't look to our fathers for wisdom because he has never had to face the kinds of choices we must. We can only look to ourselves for the answers. If there even are answers. Because I truly think we are blazing a trail for future generations of women. And our voices, our stories are important. But the key here is that the voice is one we recognize. The voice is our own.

Long live chick lit!

Ciao,
Lucie

American Spirit

So, this Independence Day I found myself fighting off some bizarre ailment that felt exactly like a killer hangover. Only, I hadn't enjoyed the binge drinking madness that usually triggers three days of dizzy spells. And that means I missed out on all sorts of 4th of July fun. However, I did find one small consolation. The movie, Bottle Shock. This little film, which I hadn't had much interest in at the beginning, really took me by surprise. It was the enduring American spirit in this sleeper of a film that spoke to me. One small little vineyard, on the brink of failure, rose from the ashes to take the grand prize in a blind taste test against a formidable collection of French wines. I'll toast to that!

Ciao,
Lucie