Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story One morning in my early adolescence, my father woke me up for school, and I told him a terrifying dream I’d had about a bear. I focussed on the overwhelming sensory…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story Last fall, when I was living in South Korea, a woman in Seoul was killed by her stalker, a co-worker, in the bathroom of a subway station. A friend and I…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story It was opening night at the Brooklyn Mirage, a seasonal night club in East Williamsburg. In the main area, about five thousand people were bobbing and waving along with an English…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story For the average home dweller, taking a bath used to be a private endeavor: fill a giant porcelain bowl with warm water, strip naked, submerge your corporeal form, rinse, repeat. The…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story Jamie Lee Curtis is Hollywood royalty: her parents were Janet Leigh, the star of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,” and Tony Curtis, the matinée idol from “Sweet Smell of Success.” She belongs to…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story To a certain subset of anxious but enthusiastic middle-class Americans—for those who yearn to see Paris before they die, and want to make sure they don’t miss a croissant or fresco…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story Patti LuPone’s basement looks like a cross between a penny arcade, a TGI Fridays, and an after-hours piano bar. You’ve probably seen it, too, if you’ve followed her on social media…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story One recent afternoon, I picked up my cell phone to see that I had a missed call and voice mail from an unknown number. “Hey, Rachel, this is Mandy Patinkin calling,”…
Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story Barbra Streisand called me on a Tuesday afternoon. Well, to be more accurate, one of her many publicists did, and then patched me into Streisand’s home in Malibu (well, really, a…