The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there


who-we-are-in-RL was on the Radio today (and we see that’s there another Broadcast in the wee small hours of the morning in case you missed it).

Screen Shot 2014-02-17 at 8.53.26 PM

we did not Catch the Show because we had driven all the way to the Pacific Ocean and along the coastal road and turned right up Topanga Canyon and, shortly after, emerged at our destination to accompany who-we-are-in-RL as she was Doing Some Digital Consulting today (and most enjoyable it was too).

but we know that Other people caught it because….



we had a Massive Spike in traffic according to Mr. WordPress.

hello (new) darlings!

now we are Completely aware that someone who heard who-we-are-in-RL who then Visits us here might be a tiny-bit-confused.

we understand that.

but this is where we get to be the nicest side of our good (selves) ness and so can Make it out there in the world.

so welcome.

we’re glad you dropped in.


we’ve been pasting everything (well, a selection of everything) into the current Scrapbok – because we adore scrapbooking.

it’s a way to leave behind what one doesn’t need anymore (but is awfully grateful it happened because nothing is wasted – and most of it is Material anyway, love) and also Acknowledge where one has been and generally get a sense of Purpose and that Life is happening and we are Awake (sort of).

“Your task is not to seek love,but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it”.


plus it’s always good to smooth away the fears of the past and get ready for what’s next.


because tomorrow is Publication Day.


and that is        d e l i c i o u s.

(you saw that coming, non?)

while also being a Tiny bit scary.

people from the Past whom we have loved and lost (or feared and run away from) might Well be passing a W. H. Smith in an airport somewhere in the world or perhaps on Oxford Street (is there still a Smiths on Oxford Street? – ah, yes – there Is) Or (wearing snow boots currently) in Union Square and there are Those who might be Popping into Foyles (oh look, we’re 10 per cent off on and even some who could be in INDIA (having picked up a copy of Good Housekeeping, the British edition – sounds unlikely but it does happen) and asked the nice people at India Times to order them a copy (gosh – 881 rupees – that sounds like a Lot – is it?) and then, well, they might say:

blimey – sophia stuart……there’s a name I’ve not heard for a while.


The Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast Club


beyond frustrated (and can’t go into the Details) so we looked around for some blog-ness-respite and found two delicious places to dream:

1. The Perfumed Dandy went to the coast and took such ever such nice pictures and, as befitting the nomenclature of his place-on-the-interweb – told us about the Fragrances that such images brought to Mind (which is awfully clever and Tremendously Chic actually).

2. And then we heard word of something MAGICAL called the The Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast Club

and so we’re going to join (if they’ll have us – so we’re posting our Responses below and adjusting our cloche hat and waiting patiently with our gloves on our lap outside the door while the Board deliberates).


Sandy over at the delicious place called “Another Lovely Day” sets out the Idea:

If you would like to be a member of the Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast Club, simply:

1) Make a list of six things you’ve basically given up on or that more often than not seem impossible/improbable.

2) Look at the list every morning before breakfast, “seeing” yourself being/doing/having each one.

Sandy has written her 6 impossible things if you scroll further down the page here:



without giving too many intimate details away ————-

1. How To Stay Sane In A cRaZY World becomes a best-seller in 2014 (when it comes out – because it wouldn’t be possible a moment before but we hope not too long after ;-)

2. We find a movie agent and he/she (or a gender warrior of both) sells all our movie screenplays (and do let it be someone who happens to like our literary agent in NYC because then they can Plot together because we’re a Tiny bit exhausted by doing all the Writing bit).

3. Our weight returns to pre-surgery (and – ahem – pre-cake-eating) levels of 2006 (without the drastic measures we took to get there Then – yes, we’re asking a Lot but you said Impossible made possible – voila)

4. Emerald gets published and a lot of teenagers get to say “blimey” (if they’re actually British or have a British-fetish) “that’s Exactly how I feel.”

5. A famous gallery owner sees our exhibition at ‘sNice and then buys a lot of work at our shop on Redbubble (yay! Australians!) and makes a decision to Launch teamgloria as a poster brand so regular people can have beautiful images (just like the Athena Posters we had on our bedroom wall when we were small – they enabled us to Dream Big – and here we are).

6. (ahem). something about Love. (no details). maybe. perhaps. at some point (cough).

We almost put down Really Impossible things like Time Travel, being the next Doctor Who (wouldn’t that be fun, we’d be ever so good at it), Living in Positano while making a film starring someone from another planet – we do think about these sorts of things.

But 1 – 6 feel impossible right now.

we had a frustrating late afternoon into evening (something with trying to put together a “talking head” thingy which was horrible and we Trashed the whole thing – Most Depressing) and to be honest, it really helped writing these 6 impossible things down and sending them out into the interweb by clicking……………Now.

vinyl, voyeurism and a very good day.


a Packed 24+ hours!

and yes, the lights are back on chez teamgloria towers (thank you to our friends at Southern California Edison) after the mass (or maybe it was just our street) blackout.


(yesterday) silver lake:

where we spent a very splendid hour having a “re-touching” lesson (in the Cecil Beaton photography sense) with the very gifted (and terribly Patient) Mr. Reuben Reynoso*

*click here to see this sumptuous underwater mermaid-ness from Mr. Reuben Reynoso’s portfolio – isn’t it truly delightful and wondrous? OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

there are streets in silver lake that look exactly like exterior locations from The Wonder Years (and maybe they were) circa (fictional) 1961. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

there was also Lots of driving yesterday – mostly around twilight. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

we felt this was portentous.

maybe this year (or next or the one after, we’re really quite Patient these days), we’ll get a red-light-from-a-studio.


we mean  GREEN LIGHT.

well-spotted larchmont-adjacent.


someone asked us if we’d take a photograph that denoted – how can we put this – the portent of true love.

so we took two today – the subtle hint of fertility with the bumble bee (or is that a wasp?) – ahem – fertilizing a lavender plant (or is it just having a scratch on its bottom?)OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

but we thought This one hit the spot – we watched these two people Flirt for ages while we sipped our tea and thoughtfully spread (raspberry) jam on freshly buttered baguette – it was most deliciously voyeur-like (in a French 1960s movie director sort of a Chic way, naturellement). OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

we also spent sometime today planning-our-next-column for Los Angeles I’m Yours (there will be Vinyl and there will be freshly buttered baguette with jam, no doubt – how real-life-inspires, darlings).


apparently (who can keep up?) cassette tapes are making-a-comeback (we only just got the memo about Vinyl).

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAthat Very nice man (and co-owner of Vacation Vinyl), Mr. Mark Thompson, gave us a very kind look when we found This Treasure languishing in the 1-dollar-bin (Thrilled!) – and wouldn’t even take a dollar for it – we really are Raking in the karma right now for reasons we can tell you and those we can’t because we-have-not-got-permission (and it’s awfully fun to keep things Quiet and sort of refined and elegantly sotto voce from time to time).

here’s something we’re NOT sotto voce about – our column (it’s been So Long since we could say those two magic words).

the 2nd one (in hopefully a long and deeply popular and yet somehow still cultish way) came out today at noon. 

Screen shot 2013-04-10 at 3.27.07 PMwhy, yes, those Are somewhat familiar Jackie O sunglasses, darlings – we do all our own photography too (and thanks to Mr. Reuben Reynoso – our own re-touching as well).

isn’t life just delicious?

we. think. so.

a sleepless night with keats.



are you still awake?

tis late, we know.


everyone is sleeping in the apartment building over here.

but us.

our candles are burning brightly for we have stayed up – warm, cosy, under the blankets and smooth sheets – to watch Bright Star.

we Thought we had told you about our experience (not quite meeting for we never shook hands or embraced on both cheeks as per our usual definition of Meeting someone) of seeing Jane Campion speak at the Director’s Guild in Manhattan.

but it must have been before we became teamgloria………….how curious that there were Movie Screenings that happened before we could tell you about them.

To whom did we tell before?

We remembered feeling Utterly Light-headed and dreamy and full of promise and hope and poetry and bluebell woods and calico petticoats.


We did ask a Question (we always enjoy asking Directors a question for we are terribly Keen to learn, for our own future exploits and excitements).

what’s that?

yes. you’re right. a few of our favo(u)rite actors are indeed present in this movie. the gifted and lovely Ms. Cornish, Mr. Whishaw (whom we are eagerly awaiting in the second series of The Hour – if you scroll down this post – ahem – what appears to be a Rather Long and enthusiastic post, you’ll see a moment from that script and our own musings therein) and Mr. Schneider (his performance in The Beloved impressed us greatly and was No. 10 in our list of summer movies during our hiatus from teamgloria in case you want a recap here).

Alas we cannot recall the Question that we asked Jane Campion now (may we call her Jane? – yet we feel sure that she has a cool nickname that one would use but only Know if one truly knew her).


at the screening at the Director’s Guild.

frowning (prettily).

Something about Hampstead and England and how-she-researched and why and wherefore and oh – let’s have some poetry.

a little something from Keats?

why yes.

lie back on the pale apricot satin chaise and tea shall be arriving shortly while Mr. Keats reads to us.

Bright Star
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.


Tootsie: the master class.


happy sunday morning from manhattan – it’s a crisp, autumnal day and we already did our early-constitutional and (look away for a moment, William), made a bacon sandwich – from scratch – with the small french iron pan, real butter, freshly sliced thick beefsteak tomatoes and (american) bacon and a portuguese roll (the deli owners en route as we made our way back home stock the same rolls that they have in the little bread vans that make their daily deliveries in rural portugal – amazing – you can get Everything in NYC).

and a (small) pot of coffee.

we’ve started to do morning pages again (have you ever done that? it’s a Julia Cameron brilliance-task from the Artists-Way) to clear our head before starting the day in a sunny frame of mind.

what came up today (apart from the bad stuff which we shall Not Bore you With – it’s the same stuff that everyone else panics about – you know – best not to give it weight by putting it here – write it down – light a candle – tear it Up, love) was life lessons from Tootsie.

didn’t see that coming, did you?

oh, wait.

we put it in the Title field.

you did know that was on its way.


so much for intrigue and mystique, darlings.

so – Tootsie.

 it’s not necessarily the lessons in Drag that we got from Tootsie.

well. that’s not so true. we Did watch that bit in fascination at What it Entails.

we’ve often struggled with the requirements of being female and we have to admit we don’t own a lipstick – nope, not one – and we remember the delighted horror from a Very Glam acquaintance of ours when she found out we only own one mascara too – no – wait! we said – we own two – one for home and one for the little plastic ziplock case that contains our emergency supplies for post-swimming. she looked at us with a delicious sense of irony and swung open the closet door in her office – darlings, Bergdorfs would have been proud – there was enough changes of clothes, make-up, scarves and Shoes – (oh gosh, The Shoes – for a week on a yacht in the Med and a week to follow at the Shows in Milan, darlings – tremendously impressive).


the lessons we gleaned from Tootsie (at a very Young age when we first saw it) were about being two genders in one –

Michael – you’re a Man.

Yes. I’m a man.
But I’m also a great actress.

and finding out how actors get those lovely voices (many years after seeing Tootsie we had Voice Training ourselves – did we ever tell you we studied Theatre?)

and how one’s projection of another Better self can help one become a Better person.

I think Dorothy is smarter than me.

(director’s notes: Being a woman has made a better man of you – Sydney Pollack said he couldn’t direct the movie until he was given this note by the scriptwriters – ah! he said – That I know how to direct).

I miss Dorothy.

You don’t have to – she’s right here.

now This Bit is fascinating – Michael becomes a better Michael by being Dorothy (and all the women around become empowered by watching Dorothy not stand for any crap in the workplace which is sort of the same premise as Switch – which we Also adore)

you see where we’re going, right?

being gloria has made us a better – probably not a better woman – but definitely a better Person – and sometimes when we’re talking to people and we lighten up and relax and don’t need the Armour/armor/protection anymore and we smile – the people that know us in RL and know gloria here sometimes say:

just for a second, I could totally see gloria.

sometimes when we put on our mascara (either the one at home or at the swimmingPool – changing rooms – not actually while In The Water) – we can see gloria too.

and while we work out how to finish this chapter and get healthy and ready for the next one – on the Other Coast – sometimes it’s easier to be gloria than it is to be who we are in RL.

because sometimes we don’t really know who that is anymore.

the last lesson from Tootsie’s master Class is this one:

The hard part is over – we were already great friends.


that one we’re still working on.



you know how to whistle don’t you, steve?

we adore writers. so fervent is our adoration of writers that we sometimes send-a-letter to tell-them-so. and sometimes we have tea with them at the St. Regis. until now (cheri), as you know, we’ve been Rather Cautious of revealing names and places and stuck firmly to initials and innuendo and allusion (or is that illusion – probably both, with us). mais non. not tonight. because we had Such a lovely time over tea with Steve Friedman that we just had to tell you about it. read this (please):

When we say “You smell good,” here’s what we mean: You make me think of fireflies and precisely five tiny beads of sweat on her Coppertoned neck, which was mine one weekend long ago. You make me taste buttered popcorn and Junior Mints and feel the scuffed movie theater seat on my bare calves, and you inspire visions of barbecued hamburgers and pudgy strawberries, purple soap and faded blue sheets.

(one of the delicious art deco statues at the St. Regis) more from Steve? why yes.

When you are asking what looks good on the menu and we slump, and we’re staring at something that’s not there? Here’s what that means: Gigantic, impossible blobs of color, purple and yellow, red and green, splotching and dripping and filling up the starry sky. Fresh-cut grass and the scent of gasoline from the pump behind the camp kitchen. Sweaty palms—mine and hers, the summer camp director’s daughter—and we kiss, not knowing that 17-year-olds looking up at the aurora borealis should keep looking, should hold tight to the vision, because we’ll never see it again. She wants to be a lawyer and we talk about raising children and she smells like hot milk cake and I imagine all the summers of my life unspooling in the sky, in northern Wisconsin, in the tall grass up the gentle hill from deep, green Towanda Lake, until the assistant camp director strides out to the athletic field and smacks his clipboard against his thigh and yells at us both to get back to our cabins; do we want him to get fired?

(the staircase up to where we had tea, at the St. Regis – yes #weAdoreAChandelier as you know, darlings).

We mean you smell like the summer sky—and hot milk cake.

isn’t that just gorgeous? sigh. we adore words. Steve was a delight in RL too. sometimes it’s weird meeting writers. and we know it’s often strange for writers to be out-in-the-world (rather than tucked up safely with their imagination, a cup of strong black coffee and a long day ahead in which to fear the unknown, challenge the demons within and generally panic and wonder why the hell they didn’t get a qualification in Something Else before the words start to flow, at first slowly and then – usually in the late, late, hours – the sort of hours that Sinatra sang about – just you, the bar and the shady types left behind – they finish and collapse exhausted and yet spent but exhilarated). so we were Thrilled that Steve said yes to tea. he’s deliciously world-weary – which is to be expected if one has read his book “Lost On Treasure Island” (which we have, of course). Steve had Many adventures (often with some pretty scary, but clearly pretty, creatures of the opposite sex – to Steve – not to us – although that’s another blog for another time or at least a Change in emphasis in this one before we get into That, darlings). as we used to say in Brighton (England – not the Brighton Beach of the Memoirs of Mr. N. Simon) – Steve’s seen it all and written the tale to tell.

so Steve and teamgloria drank tea, delicately crumbled a scone (or two) and talked about everything that people who love words and images and ideas talk about – you know, old movies, Japanese crime fiction, Film Noir, love, longing, retro 1930s Hollywood style eye-glasses, therapy – hey, this Is New York, even though Steve and teamgloria are both from Elsewhere – Steve is from the same birthplace as Tennessee Williams, as a matter of fact – isn’t that just glorious? and Lauren Bacall.

Steve is the sort of man who probably would have done well up against Lauren Bacall in a tussle of words and ideas and longing and late night banter.

much of his book: Lost on Treasure Island is about Looking for Mrs. Friedman (she isn’t lost – he hasn’t located her yet).

we thought about this as we walked to the Lincoln Center to see the New York City Ballet perform a spare and elegant and smart and witty and brilliant symposium-to-stravinsky (strains of Diana Vreeland in the audience: “we ADORE the Russians!” overheard).

When we say, poleaxed, “What’s that perfume? I really like it,” here’s what we mean: Stealing a kiss in a cab, drinking a Manhattan, which I have never drank before, in Manhattan, where I have never been before tonight. A marbled lobby, a cavernous club, shivering at her hot breath on my cheek when she whispers something about literature on the dance floor, and then another cab, another kiss, freely given, stumbling up narrow, steep stairs in what people of this loud, pushy, wondrous city where I have been one night and want to live out my days call a “walk-up,” which sounds as exotic to my midwestern ears as “prewar” or “schmear.” Her hand on the back of my head, my hand exploring the small of her back, us leaning against a wall in the entryway, fumbling with keys, whispering. Closing my eyes, wondering why people here say “on line” instead of “in line,” feeling drunk, being drunk, having found my future wife, wanting to breathe her in forever. We mean you smell sophisticated, and a little dangerous, like you know things we don’t but want to.

(the full piece is here, darlings) it’s curious. there were so many people at the Lincoln Center this evening – for the ballet or just for the promenade in early autumn wearing light cashmere wraps or perhaps a jaunty hat set at an angle – lots of people waiting for their lovers by the fountain (they must be writers or artists or from Out of Town – it being a school-night – or perhaps they are living the New Life, like us, and don’t exactly have to be up super-early) and looking and searching and connecting and talking and laughing and earnestly discussing the Third Movement and that Glorious soloist from Utah (he was awfully good).

maybe the future Mrs. Friedman was there.

perhaps someone was visiting from Los Angeles with the thought of a twinkle in their eye for a certain person with a glorious name?

we hope to god(s) it’s not someone who lives Here.

that would be Just our luck (and not the first time either).

love is so awfully complicated isn’t it? but tremendous.

oh yes.

movie crush: The Love Letter.


just a little post – we’re Awfully Busy today and rushing off Somewhere pretty soon post-DayJob (feeling a lot brighter today for some reason but still manic due to complete-lack-of-sleep)

have you seen The Love Letter?

if not – do watch it really soon.

it’s the kind of film to watch when one is in love, or about to be in love, or desirous of love or feeling all end-of-summer languidness and approaching autumn’s soft cashmere embrace with memories-of-summer-love.

so, yes, basically for all of you (cue: beam across the internet and one of those adorable head-on-the-side quizzical looks underneath the cloche hat and unfeasibly long – yes they’re real – eyelashes).

favorite quotes?

ah yes.

Dearest, Do you know how much in love with you I am? Did I trip? Did I stumble – lose my balance, graze my knee, graze my heart? I know I’m in love when I see you. I know when I long to see you, I’m on fire. Not a muscle has moved. Leaves hang unruffled by any breeze. The air is still. I have fallen in love without taking a step. You are all wrong for me and I know it, but I can no longer care for my thoughts unless they are thoughts of you. When I am close to you, I feel your hair brush my cheek when it does not. I look away from you sometimes, then I look back. When I tie my shoes, when I peel an orange, when I drive my car, when I lie down each night without you, I remain,

this is the eponymous letter (the bit the whole movie is about – if a movie is ever really about anything about from Life and Love – then this one is also about a Letter – a mysterious one – aren’t those just the Best?)

another quote?

love. this. one.

I’ve never felt this way before.

Of course not. You’re twenty.



oh look! the French movie poster had a slightly-different connotation title…..those clever chic people.


question for You.

picture the scene where Johnny (yes, the twenty-year old) and Helen (une femme d’un certain age – how French of you, darling, as her mother says at the end – Blythe Danner, plays Kate Capshaw’s mother, no less – in a Fabulous twist-of-plot which we shan’t ruin for you) dance.


in her GORGEOUS clapboard house with the swing shutter (quelle southern) front door and the cool breeze drifting off the ocean.

the scene where they dance.

what’s that song?

it’s not on the Official movie soundtrack and we really want to get it.

you know how it is when you Really want something and it’s just not on your timetable and all the pieces-information-data isn’t in place, yet?

that’s how we feel about That Track.

and, you know, other stuff.