There's only one reason to be famous.

No, it’s not because it’s really great to lose your ability to buy bras unrecognized. It’s not because Heath Ledger calls you up to say he’s breaking up with that Michelle girl in order to date you, a woman twice his age. It’s not even because it’s great when you go to Nobu and the delightful gal at the front says, “Right this way, Ms. Solow.”

Here’s what it’s all about:
Today, just minutes ago actually, I got an email from a cute guy I knew in high school. He said, and I quote,

“Shit, Solow, you look good.”

There was a “shit,” a comma, my name, and a “good” at the end. The intent was there. The emotion was clear.
What more could a girl want?

Now if I wasn’t a very, very famous author, the world would just continue to go by and cute guys from high school like Josh Mooney wouldn’t think twice about me. Or, if they did think twice about me, I would never know it. What’s the point of that?

My advice – if you did not go to your high school prom, if you were not one of the cheerleaders, even if you did not have a pair of those really great furry après ski boots because they were too expensive and your mom thought they were silly: stop what you’re doing, star in a movie, have your photographs retouched, get on the cover of In Style, practice poses in front of the mirror, DO WHATEVER YOU CAN to be very, very famous.