I don’t Want to be An Artist I want to be a Pop Star

Hello all!

I’m sorry I have not been blogging in a while. It’s just been a very hectic summer. We decided not to rent the beach house this year and instead go on lots of little trips and stay at fabulous hotels all along the coast. It’s been fun but I don’t know if I prefer it in the end. We’ll have to do better next year, we’re thinking of renting a house on St. Bart’s—it’s not high season (or it’s the “wrong” season to go to St.B but who cares? Maybe we’ll bump into SILEX from Real Housewives NYC!!). Anyway…

I have so many questions from you guys… most of them concern when is a movie or TV show of Blue Bloods coming out (not anytime soon)  or a fifth Ashleys book (no, no fifth Ashleys. I’m sorry. But I am writing a short story that will resolve the end of the series and will post it here before the end of the year), or how to pronounce Schuyler’s name (Skyler not Shooler), is covered in the FAQ section. So please look there first to see if any of your questions have been answered.

As for me, it’s been an interesting transition, my kid is almost three years old, and I’ve really been feeling, well, OLD lately. I think if you never have a kid you kind of stay young forever because you have all the time in the world for yourself. But once there is a kid, it’s just different. Part of why being a parent is so difficult now is that, well, we are just older—we had this great life of friends and freedom and then it all kind of crashes down and ends and you’re just sitting on the couch again watching TV.

Mike and I grew up in houses where our parents were home all the time. Not during the first part of my childhood, when my parents were socialites and went out all the time—I only saw my dad, for instance, on Sundays. But once we moved to the US their social life ended and they were just home. And that’s a great feeling, having your parents at home when you’re young. It makes you feel really secure. I remember feeling WORRIED all the time when I was little and not really falling asleep until I heard my parents’ car in the driveway and the gate opening in the middle of the night—I was always WORRIED they would a) never come back or b) get killed while they were out.

So Mike and I are home a lot now. Because we are parents. Sigh. And it’s just other things, like looking older. In my mind I still think I’m this hot cool young thing but lately people are calling me ‘ma’am’ at the Whole Foods. Ma’am!! Who is that??? Don’t I carry a wallet that says I DON’T WANT TO BE AN ARTIST I WANT TO BE A POP STAR EVERYONE IS AN ARTIST THESE DAYS – JOHNNY ROTTEN. Johnny Rotten! Yeah, Johnny Rotten on my wallet! I mean c’mon! I’m still rebellious and cool…and oooh, truffle oil. Yeah. Put that bitch in my basket. Truffle oil!! I am old.

Some of my friends are over forty or turning forty this year which is unacceptable because that means in TWO YEARS I will be forty myself. FORTY!!! SHOOT ME NOW!! And I’m not one of those people who really care about age, really, I’m not a numbers girl. But it’s just…so weird. Like, how did that happen?? WHY GOD WHY??? I loved being twenty-two. God I was cute at twenty-two. And you know it’s so sad to hear formerly attractive women talk about losing their looks because it’s like, oh god, just shut up already. Did anyone else read the Elizabeth Wurtzel piece in Elle about losing her beauty? Fascinating right?

And you know why it’s sad, because even though there are so many beautiful women over 40 like Michelle Pfieffer and Demi Moore and all those ladies, is that even though you are still beautiful, you are still.. OLD. And there’s just something gorgeous about being young. All the young are gorgeous and fresh. And you, beautiful as you are, are old, and should make way for the young and hot to take their turn on the stage.

I remember guys would ask me out on the street, I remember a guy following me all the way down to the subway and asking me out, I remember one guy telling me he saw me at the movies over the weekend and he noticed we always took the same train and could he take me out to dinner? And I remember old rich guys hitting on me at fancy nightclubs. (They were old because they were…what? 32? HA! Although some were um, 52.) And then I met Mike when I was 25 and then you know… you kind of stop exuding that ripe sexy availability…and then it just fades…although you do make an effort to keep looking cute for your husband, who if he is a good guy, will try to notice once in a while (knee-high boots always seem to do it)…but to the rest of the world you’re just…

A Mom. Ma’am.

Growing-up sucks.

I always think EVERYONE ELSE looks old, which is why I can’t seem to make friends with people with kids because they all look like PARENTS! As hip and cool they try to look, they still look like PARENTS! And I can’t be friends with such squares!! PARENTS! And then, I realize I AM A PARENT and I PROBABLY LOOK OLDER THAN THEY DO. ARGGH!


What else am I doing other than worrying about aging. Which for a YA author is like, gross, right? Like shut up already old bag! HA!

Working on BB5 now, and it it’s so fun. Planning our trip to the Venice Biennale this November (which inspired Masquerade). Still weekend-house-hunting in Palm Springs even though it 120 degrees out there. Shopping for my fall wardrobe for my book tour. Contemplating hiring a personal shopper although a personal shopper=crack dealer basically. Missing my friends in New York. Planning a huge launch party. (I loves me a fab launch.) Dropping the kid off at preschool. All is right in the world…