New York Proves Itself One More Time
A returned wallet restores faith in the big city
By Lorraine Duffy Merkl
“They have your wallet over at The Mansion [Diner],” said my doorman last Monday morning.
He was referring to my new, blue, rectangular Michael Kors wallet that holds my life and that I thought I’d never see again. Read more
Not Keeping Up with the Kardashians
How Justin Bieber saved me from Kim
Just when I thought I’d be turning in a column about the nadir of entertainment, Kourtney & Kim Take Manhattan (10 p.m., Sundays on E!), I channel surfed my way to finding “the Biebs” rockin’ out on NBC with Rockefeller Center as his stage. Read more
Straight from the Top
Job lessons learned from High-Profile New Yorkers
May everyone have a job in 2011.
To become/stay gainfully employed in the New Year, let’s resolve to learn from ten New Yorkers whose professional lives made headlines in 2010: Read more
Christmas Birthdays Forgotten in the Mix
People born on Dec. 25 are overshadowed by the holiday
Last year’s cause célèbre was the name-changing of the towering spruce in front of 30 Rock to “The Tree.” This year, the title’s been restored to the “Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.”
With at least that War On Christmas battle behind us, I would like to take up a new banner: sensitivity to the segment of our population who are always overshadowed by the holiday festivities because they share their birthday with Christ. Read more
Matchmaker Falls Short
Host tries and fails to match millionaires with New Yorkers
Matchmaker, matchmaker, go back to L.A.
Bravo’s reality series Millionaire Matchmaker is filming this season in Manhattan instead of Los Angeles. The show’s star, Patti Stanger, will fit in quite nicely with those competitive New Yorkers who often don’t live up to their own hype.
We all know them: the colleague who sharpens a pencil and acts as though they’ve cured cancer; the friend who must one-up you even if it’s over one more slice of bacon on his BLT; and the mom who declares her child “gifted” even though his class rank or position on the team is no more impressive than anyone else.
Watching the program’s wacky west coasters embarrass themselves on dates has given me hours of amusement. Now that it’s in my own backyard, though, I’m not laughing.
First, let’s define “millionaire.” On both coasts, Stranger’s are not the high-society, captains-of-industry types, but more of the millionaire-next-store ilk. They aren’t exactly inaccessible; but, as are those who work paycheck-to-paycheck, often just too busy for “the hunt.”
Enter the abrasive, Jersey-born Stanger (note: the doctor cannot heal herself, and remains unmarried), who bills herself as a third-generation matchmaker with a phenomenal record of helping wealthy people find their soul mates.
Except that she doesn’t. What puzzled me from watching the L.A. franchise is her abysmal rate of failure. Why would anyone put their business on national television and week after week disprove their bragging rights that they are the best at what they do?
In the show’s first NYC episode, her challenge was to set up two owners of a very lucrative Internet businesses. The million-dollar man was 40-years-old and looking for a wife. Patti honed in on the problem: His usual choice of young, hot party-girl does not a Mrs. make.
She set up a mixer for him to meet more serious, accomplished, age-appropriate women, of which New York has a plethora. But also invited twenty-somethings. (Why? Didn’t she say they were his downfall?) Guess whom Mr. Creature-of-habit chose and whose date didn’t work out?
Stanger, like all those who screw up their assignments, looked for someone else to blame—in this case, her intern.
Her other client, the million-dollar woman, didn’t fare any better. This time though, Stanger laid the fault at the feet of the single-mother, who was deemed too picky. Then, like those GOING OUT OF BUSINESS store salespeople who can’t convince you their cheap wares are “better than Sony,” Stanger yelled at her paying customer, “There’s the door. Go.” She declared the rejected men “great,” even though they didn’t meet the client’s requirements.
Yet none of this stops Stanger from proclaiming, “New York needs me.”
Like we need another bagel store.
This is yet another NYC reality show that does us no justice. For her get-togethers, Stanger manages to find the handful of women here who don’t own a little black dress, as well as guys who don’t own suits. Giving her license, by the second episode, to snap with superiority, “This is the fashion capital of the world, yet no one knows how to dress.” Where is she looking? Not at the elegant denizens on Madison, or Boho chic-sters downtown or the tailored execs in Midtown. She also claimed that, “No one here gets mani/pedis or waxes.” How does she explain the nail salons on practically every corner?
If you really want someone to help you snag a rich New York spouse, forget Millionaire Matchmaker and seek counsel from someone who’s already done it for herself. Anyone got an email address for Melania Trump?
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Lorraine Duffy Merkl’s debut novel Fat Chick, from The Vineyard Press, is available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com.
New York Is a Carnival Ride
The biggest freak show in the world is on exhibit daily
“Step right up, folks! We’ve got arcade games and prizes, stilt-walkers and circus performers, magicians, jugglers and a 50-foot Ferris Wheel!”
On Columbus Day, I took my daughter and her friend to the Park Avenue Armory, whose 55,000-square-foot hall was transformed into a fantastical carnival. Read more
Transform Yourself in New York
A chance for change waits around every corner
I spent a week on the East End doing my own version of Eat Pray Love. I called it Eat. Play. Sun.
Feeling quite brand new, I understand how the change did Elizabeth Gilbert good, but for the life of me, I still don’t quite understand why she had to go to three different countries for a year to “wake up and marvel at something.” Read more
An Overabudance of Diligence
Is being hyper conscientious worth the effort?
Oops, I did it again—I stood in line for Shakespeare in the Park, this time to see a fabulous performance of The Winter’s Tale.
I’ve attended this free outdoor event since 1980, using the same M.O. every time: get there at dawn to camp out. And every year I end up about 200 people back by the big rock. Hence, I always end up in virtually the same seats, which are in the section that could be deemed “the nose bleeds.” There were years I felt like they saw me coming and whipped out the same old seats just to mess with me. This year, due to an alternate side of the street parking matter that I had to deal with, I broke tradition and arrived “late” at 9 a.m. Read more
From Mess to Masterpiece
How ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ rose from the ashes to become the quintessential New York film.
Last week I saw Breakfast at Tiffany’s again for the first time.
Even though I can practically recite every line by heart, I viewed the classic with fresh eyes when it played at the Sunset Film Festival in Carl Schurz Park because I had just finished Sam Wasson’s behind-the-scenes book about the movie, Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M.: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and The Dawn of the Modern Woman. Read more
Down Time in the City That Never Sleeps
By Lorraine Duffy Merkl
“I have a leisurologist,” said the young woman into her cell, while breezing by me on Madison and 60th Street at lunch hour.
She was in her late twenties, with bouncy brown hair and simple, yet trendy, clothes. Her demeanor was so upbeat, all I could think was Whatever a leisurologist is, hers must be doing a great job.
