Absolutely Fabulous!

I know, I know. I’ve used that term a dozen or so times here in London. It’s just too easy not to — especially when talking about the staff at Fabulous magazine. They’re a hard-working, talented and super-fun bunch of ladies (and a few men).

The swap flew by as I knew it would, and my last day at the office seemed to come out of nowhere. It was also unlike any last day I had at previous jobs: There were tears, bubbly and cake!

I formed more than just working relationships with many members of the staff, so this post goes out to them.

Sinead, me and Rachel on my last day.

Sinead, me and Rachel on my last day.

I’ll never forget….

…sharing the daily papers with Sinead everyday. Since we also shared a desk, one of us would grab The Sun, The Mirror, The Mail and The Times, and start going through each of them at our own pace before passing them on to the other when done. Also, she was the only one who could clasp my cuff bracelet on the first try.

…Jenny turning around to say, “Hey! Y’alright?” every time she came to the copier, which was beside my desk. Her sweet smile and genuine interest in my well-being was obvious and she always made me feel welcome.

…ending up in some bumping bar in SoHo with Lauren after seeing A Chorus Line. Lauren has a clear coolness factor to her, so the fact that we ended up in some cheesy thumper of a club was a bit, well, surprising. It also made me feel super old. Still, we giggled about it, downed our beers and quickly retreated to a more suitable spot down the road.

…those seven bottles of wine with Eimear. She doesn’t work in the office anymore, but she happened to be coming down from Edinburgh on my first week and helped “induct” me into life in London by way of sharing 7 bottles of wine with me and four others. Since then, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed her witty FB status updates and journo requests, and overall zest for anything she feels strongly about. Which is a lot.

…dancing on the stage at Barrio East with Jo. Since our usual time together often involved intense career and “life” discussions over lunch at the canteen or Pret, it was a side of her I had yet to see. She let loose and got DOWN!

Crossing Tower Bridge with Jo after toasting our new adventures.

Crossing Tower Bridge with Jo after toasting our new adventures.

…seeing a rainbow and huddling together under one scarf to avoid the rain with Hannah. We’ve had quite a few other memories — sharing chorizo risotto, seeing Dido and Ellie Goulding, meddling with boys on V-day, to name a few — but this one stands out.

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Somewhere over the rainbow…

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Make room for me under there!

…sipping bubbly with Beth and her friends atop the ME Hotel at the Strand. She and her friends had been up there all afternoon, so by the time I arrived words were a bit, ahem, slurred, but soon enough it was as if I’d been there all day, giggling and boozing with pals I’d known forever.

Beth and I way up on top of the Strand.

Beth and I way up on top of the Strand.

…the Language of Carly Hobbs. She “probs” (her word, not mine!) thinks I gave her a hard time about all the made-up words she uses, but they “totes” made me chuckle most of the time and I got super “emosh” when she came over with a bag of beauty goodies on my last day.

…Rachel. Honestly, I don’t know where to start! She became more than a “boss” as soon as she dropped off toothpaste and Ginger Ale after I’d been vomiting all night due to food poisoning. She took me to the NTA’s, gave me VIP tickets to rugby, brought me to both Shoreditch House AND SoHo House, invited me to dinner with her friends, sobbed with me at the cinema when watching Amour, and introduced me to a Byron burger. Next up? We’re hiking some mountain in Wales called Snowdon. She’s good fun and a serious editor who’s a force to be reckoned with. Rock on, Rach.

Me and Rachel

Me and Rachel

Of course, there are others: Dom and Mark — two of the few boys in the office — whose music tastes I learned by way of their feet and fingers tapping intensely depending on what was playing on the radio; Laura C. and Lucie, who both got engaged within a week of each other; Antoinette and Sarah M, who joined me on a “wheely good date” on the London Eye; Laura B. and her admirable marathon training routine, and Katie, who reminded me of my sister with her efficient photo-shoot planning.

As with many of life’s journey’s, the people you meet along the way can make all the difference. And in this case, it can’t be any more true… or more Fabulous.

I am what I am and I am a Writer

I am hardly alone in saying so, but the most rewarding experiences in life never come without intense fear and at least a little doubt.

Stuffing six months worth of clothing and toiletries into a backpack at the age of 21 to travel South East Asia all by myself did not come without worry. But to this day, I can still close my eyes and smell the burning palm leaves, see the rice paddies, hear the gongs and recall every hostel and the smile of every bus driver during that time abroad.

Telling my boyfriend of two years that I no longer loved him as I once did and needed to move out of our fancy, lower Fifth Avenue apartment was abysmal. And yet I do not regret doing it and believe it probably made each of us stronger people and better partners to future loves.

Leaving a full time job that’s not only strengthened my skills as an editor, but provided me with a host of valuable experiences, not to mention a reliable salary to afford Rebecca Minkoff handbags (even from sample sales, natch) and Michael White dinners (holla restaurant week!), is risky and one of the most terrifying decisions I’ve ever made. But I’m doing it. In fact, I’ve done it. After six years and five months, I’ve resigned from the New York Post.

This swap won’t come full circle. At least, not for me. It’s more of a U-turn. A Me-turn, really.

Call me maybe-crazy. But also call me a Writer. Because I’m not resigning for a new full-time editing job somewhere else. I’m resigning to concentrate on writing. (With a chunk of traveling thrown in for good measure. ‘Cause, really, saying I’m going to become a Traveler may not go over well with the ‘rents, or anyone for that matter.)

I’ve decided what to be and go be it. — The Avett Brothers

A writer, that's me.

A writer, that’s me. (Made to order necklace by Tatty Devine!)

For the past 10 years or so, when someone asked me what I did, I always said, “I’m an editor.” I helped make other peoples’ work better; stronger. I loved being the fresh eye to labor over how one’s words were strung together, making tweaks and changes until they were just so. I hope — no, I know — I will lend that same skill to my own work as I venture down this less shiny, unpaved road.

See, this is what I always thought I’d do. Somehow I just skipped over it. I went from being a journalism graduate who spent way too much time thinking about what her pen name would be, to quickly moving up the masthead without truly getting to use one.

Sure, I’ve written things here and there for various publications, but I never wrote that ELLE magazine cover story or that New York magazine exclusive. Who knows if I will, or how long I’ll last at my own private desk, wearing Lululemon on the job and taking assignments five hours before they’re due so I could try that new Michael White joint. But I’m going to give it 100 percent effort.

Thanks to this blog, I’ve found my voice. Or, really, just a medium from which to finally broadcast it. The response I’ve gotten from strangers and professionals to friends and family has been astonishing and encouraging. It’s pushed me to flip the tables and turn the switch.

Is it a risk? Yes. Am I a wee bit scared? Yes. But I am ready.

I’ve found my I Am-ness, as my friend and yoga teacher Jennifer Pastiloff encourages her students to declare at the start of her workshops.

About a month ago I went to see A Chorus Line at the West End. (A perk of a sweet full time job that may soon be a distant memory!) During the show I got extremely emotional during the song “What I Did for Love.”

Kiss today goodbye,

The sweetness and the sorrow.

Wish me luck, the same to you.

But I can’t regret

What I did for love, what I did for love.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the lyrics. This is what I’m doing for love. So it’s not a curly-haired, blue-eyed Love with a British accent and shared interest in the Kings of Leon and bike riding that everyone back home hoped I’d come back (or not come back) with.

But it’s A Love.

Kiss today goodbye,

And point me t’ward tomorrow.

We did what we had to do.

Won’t forget, can’t regret

What I did for Love

Call me a little dramatic – hey, it’s theatre, people! – but it’s also the rest of my life. Or really, just the start.

Celebrity encounters

A funny, unexpected thing happened at work a few weeks ago: Rachel and our A-list assistant editor Beth Neil asked me, the girl who knows next to nothing about most of the celebrities here in the UK, to interview one of those celebrities. Granted, said celeb — Misha B — is not herself an Super-Duper Celeb. Only those who keep up with and watch The X Factor UK would know her, really. Still, have Voice Memo App, Will Interview!

So I spent the better part of a day re-watching her X Factor performances on YouTube, followed by a lot of Google-ing and listening to her new album, which I genuinely liked. She’s got this poppy-reggaeton vibe that’s fresh and fun. The one “heads up” I got going in was that she divided audiences because of her “over confidence” and “standoffish” vibe on the live shows. (I have to say, I didn’t see any of that in the clips — I just saw a really talented young girl who knew she had a set of pipes and a unique outlet for which to use them. But I think it may heen a case of The British Aren’t Like That as opposed to her really being a diva.) Anyway, I went and did my thing, aka tried to just have a casual, NBD convo with her as if she were “normal.” It all resulted in this.

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Behind the Scenes at the Misha B shoot

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Whatever these people are doing is what my sister does at NBC!

"This email is so important, I can't even put my other shoe on yet." Alan Gittos, Fab Mag Acting Picture Editor

“This email is so important, I can’t even put my other shoe on yet.” Alan Gittos, Fab Mag Acting Picture Editor

Then, a week or so after that, Beth asked to interview another celebrity. This time, though, it was someone on my radar: American country crooner LeAnn Rimes, who in recent years had gotten a lotta flack (and I mean A LOT) from the media for breaking up hot Eddie Cibrian’s marriage to that Real Housewife. I know, I know. Leann’s “the homewrecker.” But after watching the footage of Eddie’s ex on Bravo, I have to say, this Brandi seems like a bit of a wreck herself. But I won’t get into any of that. In fact, I don’t have to. Tons of US tabloids — US Weekly included — have already spun the article into their own dramariffic web. Sigh.

Me and LeAnn

Me and LeAnn

Out of the two, I preferred talking to Misha because I went in with an objective, unbiased view of who she was and what others thought of her. Of course, I know as a journalist there’s a certain amount of homework to be done on the person so you don’t come off looking like a complete arse, but I think sometimes in this Google-Wiki world we live in, we start to rely too heavily on what’s already out there, rather than checking facts and doing our own first-hand research and reporting.

See, if only I could find the mini-casette tape from my 2004 chat with Ryan Gosling, you’d all get to hear him profess his love for short Jewish white girls from Long Island…

As if.

But I did interview Ryan Gosling! I should find that tape… 

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I’m a Page Three girl

Remember back when I started at Fabulous and I mentioned that The Sun features a nearly nekkid photo of a girl every day on its Page Three? (Which, btw, contrary to The Post’s Page Six, is actually on Pg. 3.) And that I was going to shield you from this nudity nonsense? Well, the time has come, dear readers, to unveil the boobs. Because this weekend, I made my Page Three debut.

Now, before you go thinking I went all Ashley Dupre/Katie Price on you, let me explain.

See, on the weekend, The Sun doesn’t feature a bare-breasted woman as it does Monday through Friday. But they still like to, ahem, titillate, so they’ll often feature a photo of a scantily-clothed celebrity instead.

And since yesterday’s issue of Fabulous was the debut of our refresh, The Sun wanted to trace to the mag to remind people to take a look and hence, leading with a sexy outtake from our cover story on Myleene Klass. So Rachel asked me to write up said tracer, including the juiciest quotes from the interview, followed by a bit on the new look and our new features.

No sweat, I thought. I’d done this before for The Post to promo Page Six Mag.

Flash forward to Saturday evening when I get a text from Lachlan who was working The Sun newsdesk that night.

“Hey, did you ever think when you came here that you’d be a Page Three Girl?”

Huh? I thought.

And then, Ohhhhhh, right.

After sending the copy to Rachel, I never saw edits and neither of us knew for sure it’d actually go in. (This is a newspaper, people, anything can happen.) But now it had been confirmed: I’d be on Page Three. Fully clothed, thankyouverymuch. And, in actuality, not really there at all. Just my name. Way more appropriate. (I could only imagine what Dean Rubin from Newhouse would think if it were anything more…or, er, less.)

No matter that what was printed read little like what I actually composed — am used to newsdesk editing — I made it on Page Three!

So here, ladies and gents, is the moment you’ve all been waiting for: my Page Three, followed by a typical one.

Happy Monday.

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My Page Three, Sunday, April 7

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Not Me on Page Three, Monday, April 8