The Breakfast Table

Great Shoes!


Glad to see that your wife has such good taste. Marie Claire once sent me to cover the National Prostitute’s Convention–just me and 400 working gals dressed in cellophane. My favorite moment was during the “Hookers Ball,” when everyone at my table started fighting over the centerpiece, which was a tasteful medley of battery-operated devices tied together with ribbons and balloons. At least, they looked like balloons.

Speaking of working women, you no doubt noticed in today’s Times that the Supreme Court won’t be hearing the discrimination case brought by the Cozy Cabin in Queens and the dancer “Vanessa Doe.” Cozy and Vanessa were trying to make the case–and it sure makes sense to me–that shutting down topless bars “discriminated against women dancers.” But the Supreme Court agreed with the appeals court, which said, “we must recognize that the public reactions to the exhibition of the female breast and the male breast are highly different.” (You following this, Dan?) Needless to say, Rudy Guiliani is tickled by the news, announcing that it shows once and for all that “there are differences between men and women.” So, there you have it.

While you were in bed with Marie Claire last night, Dan, I was reading back issues of America –which is published by a buncha Jesuits on West 56th Street, who invited me to dinner last week, and so the guilt of having never read their magazine before was enormous! Between us, they are much more entertaining in person. First we had mass, then we had “cocktails.” “I know you don’t expect to hear this in a room full of Jesuits, Lisa,” said “John,” who had just passed out communion, but was now sipping something on the rocks, “but … Great shoes!” Actually, that’s exactly what I expect to hear in a room full of Jesuits.

In my next installment, I will provide you with excerpts from America . But first I have to run out to Fairway. Am making dinner tonight for my friend Jonathan and his boyfriend Andy. Which–aside from major pressure in the footwear department–means that sometime between the salad course and the entrée, my entire apartment will have been rearranged.