scrapbooking (in a Cecil Beaton way) danny la rue and meg ryan

whenever team gloria feels a bit freaked out, we scrapbook.

not in that martha-stewart-special-satiny-pens-and-stuck-on-flower-decals-midwest-momma-way.

although there’s nothing wrong with that. we’d love to be in a cozy kitchen outside michigan with some ladies from the local coffee klatch talking about school gossip and what-doreen-did-last-night.

rather than eating raw vegetables (yeah, the greek salad/jet lag meal again), reducing, and mentally steeling ourselves for another day in the sniper zone of midtown manhattan.

William and Danny La Rue sent us a DELICIOUS card.

which completely deserved its own fresh page.

you see we have scrapbooks galore.

two a year, on average, since Feb 1998. an auspicious date in the team gloria calendar.

they are a way to not only record but look back at marvel at where we’ve been, what we’ve seen, and who we’ve met……………

like meg ryan yesterday*

*she was walking towards us on houston and sullivan in soho with that unmistakable jaunty loping walk, head to toe in black, cute round dark glasses and a cap. sort of japanese combat chic.

we smiled. and so did she.

we rock, seriously.

giggle.

you’ve got mail.

wonderful. watched this again for the first time in YEARS last night. the innocence of dial-up modems, only having two emails to open in your pre-HMTL-compatible mail program and the upper west side in its glory of book parties, spring days whimsically walking by Verdi Square with your decaf mocha to go and long afternoons spent eating pretzels in conversation on a bench. dreamy. also useful for women in business to learn the basics of quoting from The Godfather. it helps….I know.

80s hair, malibu and a room at the Algonquin.

oh! team gloria watched this last night – definitely one for the late night movie collection – rich and famous – all 80s hair (yup, with satin bows and up-dos), sisterhood, parties on the beach at malibu, a deliciously early cougar moment by ms. bisset who gets cruised on Fifth Avenue, fluffy white robes, bitching, bi-coastal gloriousness and meg ryan’s debut in what was george cukor’s final film (right?) in a snappy screenplay by gerald ayres and – look out for it – a walk-on role for christopher isherwood and his lover don bachardy.

what more could you ask for on a sleepless night as the mercury rises in Manhattan (at bloody last)?