The Famous Author Chronicles

Spot to Read: "The Aristobrats" OMGasp!

2010-09-20T09:32:00.000-07:00

Spot to Read: "The Aristobrats" OMGasp!: "Lylas (Love ya like a sister) are four 8th grade girls on the top of the populadder! Being the most popular in the 8th grade class at Walli..."

Spot to Read: "The Aristobrats" OMGasp!

2010-09-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

Spot to Read: "The Aristobrats" OMGasp!: "Lylas (Love ya like a sister) are four 8th grade girls on the top of the populadder! Being the most popular in the 8th grade class at Walli..."

Middle names I like

2010-06-09T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have a dirty little secret. I have no middle name. My mom explains it to me thusly: "My mother, your grandmother, gave me the middle name 'i.' which is humiliating. i-what? i-robot? i-likey? No. just i, period. This is why, you, darling, have been saved from the humiliation of a horrible middle name. Consider it a blessing."

Okay. Got it. But just in the past few months I've been coveting. Middle-name-envy, if you will.

1. "Bombshell." Is this a crazy-great middle name or wha? It sort of sets the stage. Puts it out there. Gives you a goal to reach for. I don't even think you need all the tattoos to support a name like that. "Bombshell" says all you need to know.

And 2. "The Situation." I don't watch the show so I don't know to what "The Sitch" refers, but I like it! I mean, who doesn't want to be, not just a, but the situation? It looks like it requires a lot of ab work to be The Situation, but with a middle name like that, it's worth it. ...Jennifer The Situation Solow. I'm liking it!

Backtacular!

2010-06-08T18:47:00.000-07:00

Are you like me? Sitting in the library in your JLo's, not really thinking about much else other than your current manuscript, the fact that your car is parked in the 20 minute zone and you've been there for 6 1/2 hours, wondering if the library lady will catch you sneaking Zone Bars and dried apples out of your backpack simply so you don't pass out from lack of caloric intake, not thinking ONE IOTA about the guy sitting behind you staring at your visible gluteal delineation, aka butt crack?

Well, then this product is for you. A modesty "sticker" apparently, for those who both defy gravity with their pants AND care if someone notices. Me? Well, I prefer the booty to the sticker.

Am I an expert? You be the judge.

2009-07-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a while since I've said bonjour and I wanted to let you know what's all happening. I was in the middle of my next book and my agent came to me with an idea I jumped on.

Here's the dealio: I'm writing a new series called THE ARISTOBRATS.
The first is due out in 2010 and, if I can learn to type a whole lot faster than I do now, I should have another one out about 6 months after that.
It's about a group of popular Eighth Graders at the prestigious Wallingford Academy whose lives at the top of the populadder are all but ruined when they're assigned to produce the school's lame-o webcast.
I've been having a marvelouz time writing these girls: Parker, Ikea, Plum and Kiki. I adore them and I hope you will too. Fans of 'The Booster' will not be disappointed.

And BTDubs, that's me on the far right --->

Who has better shoes? Candace Bushnell or me?

2008-10-30T22:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so Candace has a few New York Times bestsellers...AND a few movies and television shows under her belt...AND she is WAY skinnier than I am...AND married to a ballet dancer with really hot buns...AND maybe you can't really see it from the photographs, but I am wearing P-R-A-D-A and I think that must count for something.

So seriously, Candace is, as Jane Green says, brilliant, and she cups her buns when she poses, which wins her big points in my book.

If you missed our evening on stage together, tant pis! it was one night only at The Lark Theater.

I'm finishing book 2 and book 3 and my future is in the hands of my capable agent --- until then, I will buy no more shoes and finish (I swear) Candace's new book.

xx

Life is perfect (for the moment).

2008-07-22T08:06:00.000-07:00

It's that special time in a writer's life:
The new manuscript is done and has been turned into the agent.
The agent will not be done reading said manuscript for at least a few days, possibly an entire week!

For these delicious, yet fleeting moments, life couldn't be better. There are no revisions that need revising, no writing that needs to be written and no sorrows that need to be drowned in Bombay martinis, straight up, VERY cold, extra olives. Martinis need only to be enjoyed, not needed.

I'm going to enjoy these perfect days. Sit in the sun. Try on some wigs. Wrap some boas around my neck for my own amusement. Eat some chocolate.

Ah, if only all of life could be this grand.

Keep Manhattan Just Gimme That Countryside!

2008-07-15T14:23:00.001-07:00

Move over Eva Gabor, Green Acres is the place to be! I'm not sure if this is very cool of me or slightly weird and kind of old-lady-ish, but I've taken up all sorts of farm-girl stuff at my new house in upstate Podunkapalooza.

I'm 1. gardening 2. baking bread 3. making my own (yes, for real) goat cheese and 4. wearing Carhartts and work boots and completely ignoring my 5-step Obagi face care routine!

Oh, but check out those squash blossoms. Nice, right?

Do you think I'll ever recover? Do you think I'll ever wear my Pucci heels again?

Does this hat make me look fat?

2008-05-15T23:36:00.000-07:00

Every girl needs a break. Mine was Thailand and a yummy little hotel called Sala Samui. It was hot and gorgeous and I braved the beaches in something they call a micro-tini, a thing a woman of my age and buttock jiggle shouldn't be caught dead in. But that's me - always pushing the envelope for the paparazzi. But don't worry, I'm home now...hard at work on finishing not one, but TWO manuscripts. One has gotten very naughty and the other is downright intellectual (if I can spell it) -- hmmm...which to finish first?
xxx

Rule #1: Always invite the go-go dancers

2008-02-13T20:37:00.000-08:00

I do not believe a party is truly a party until the go-go dancers get the cage a rockin'. (Remember my 30th birthday in Tribeca?!).

Saturday night was no exception. The gorgeous party at the over-the-top home of Jillian (no relation to The-Booster-Jillian) Manus and Alan Salzman would have simply been another million dollar black tie fete had it not been for the groovy gyrations, talking Nixon holograph, Brain Drain cocktails served out of the ears of an ice sculpture of George W, the Romneywitz Bar Mitzvah room, the afro-clad band and Melissa Rivers wearing that same-ole-same-ole dress she wore to the Golden Globes.

I donned a delightful, one-shouldered Marc Jacobs number. I believe it was from his pre-rehab 2007 resort collection. In any case, it was as fabu as a baggie full of coke. In fact, it may be the most fabu piece of clothing I own.

And...I'm also getting more and more inquiries as to my what's, when's and where's...so, okay: I'm writing, I'm rewriting, and re-re-writing, I'm sword fighting, doing ballet, kickboxing, pole dancing and organizing my eye shadows. Somebody's gotta do it, right?

The European tour

2007-12-29T09:01:00.000-08:00

Milan > Lake Como > Lagano, Switzerland > Copenhagen > Paris...all in 10 days! The dollar is pathetic so shopping had to be kept to a minimum. As usual, I made a stop at Frederic Malle and this time bought the entire set in mini form. Each morning I try a new parfum instead of just sticking with Therese, which is still the most gorgeous scent on earth. The highlight was meeting my French editor. She made me promise I wouldn't put her photo on my blog but I just love it too much to hide. Instead, I have made the pic as tiny as a door-mouse. The Metro sign! The Eiffel Tower! My book in French! So sorry, D.D.! I hope you will forgive me...and merci buckets for the tasty steak tartare!

Milan was oh-so-Christmas-y. It was also as cold as a witch's tit. (I had to go to Switzerland and buy a warmer coat. I just HAD to!) I found my hardback in a number of bookstores. It was also the opening night at La Scala. How fab is that? I stayed in this really grand hotel with lots of little gold bits and everyone spoke ITALIAN! It was very glamorous.

I gained about a zillion pounds, which is not funny at all, but I drowned my sorrows with a beautiful new handbag from ABACO. It was less expensive than the Louboutins I almost bought and way more comfy.

I have Great Happiness

2007-11-09T14:19:00.001-08:00

In keeping with my shameless promotion of things I adore, people I admire or just stuff that I wish I had thought of first, I have to plug the absolutely jaw-dropping documentary The Great Happiness Space by filmmaker, Jake Clennell. I think you can only get it on Netflix at the moment (yes, I wish they paid me to say that) but I think you need to have it.

Here's why: I dare anyone not to fall in love with Issei, the hottest thing since, well, something else really hot. He's a shameless heart breaker with death-defying charisma and fantastic hair. The screen hasn't sizzled like this since Warren Beatty blew out Julie Christie in Shampoo.

The movie came out in 2006, which means Issei is probably driving his kid to soccer practice by now but for me he will always be the ultimate bad boy. If you need to know more before diving in (yes, Bryanboy, I know you're already sold), www.thegreathappinessspace.com.

God, I need to go to Osaka.

It takes a year to really process.

2007-10-31T22:41:00.000-07:00

I don't think anyone can really do Marie for Halloween the VERY SAME YEAR the movie comes out. The competition is too great - the images, too fresh. Like wearing white after Labor Day: it's just not right. But a year later and poof. Voila. Let them eat cack. The wig is my friend Nona's, The Vagina Designa. The pearls were my grandmother, Addie-Babes', and the dress is mine. Next year I'll go as, I dunno, Micheal Clayton maybe.
xx

La Ladra Romanzo di Jennifer Solow - oh m'gawd!

2007-09-21T22:01:00.000-07:00

What could be better than gnocchi with pesto? Well - La Ladra Romanzo di Jennifer Solow.

What does it mean? Who cares. It's Italian and it sounds delicious.

"Jennifer Solow ci racconta la storia provocatoria di una 'bad girl' sofisticata e ribelle al tempo stesso, che ci conquista con la sua eccentricità e fragilità."

Does that sound fantastic or what?

If you happen to be in Italy and can drag me a home a copy - please do and drop me a line. I LOVE the Italian cover! It's so, like, Elastigirl, I'm dying.

Too Hot To Print!

2007-07-18T08:27:00.000-07:00

The French magazine Public was supposed to run excerpts of The Booster all summer long BUT, at the last minute, they decided to pull it saying, "too scandalous....it might incite kleptomania."

As if the French don't enjoy a scandal? Le Bullshit!

I guess I should be flattered. I have created something TOO SCANDALOUS for France. Tres Bien.

If you haven't already done so, pick up a copy of the BRAND NEW PAPERBACK. Ah bon!

Paperback out this summer!

2007-04-29T15:36:00.000-07:00

The printing presses are heating up. The boxes are ready. The bookstores are waiting. The rabid fans (who did not want to shell out the full $24 for a hardback) are salivating.

YES, The Booster in paperback is almost here. You can buy it in Australia. You can buy it in Italy. You can buy it in France. Someday maybe (bryanboy, help me here) THE TURD WORLD!

They changed the cover and I think it's quite lovely. More peppy perhaps? More...red?
I hope you enjoy it and as usual, drop me a line.

I have absolutely no news whatsoever.

2007-04-20T16:22:00.000-07:00

It's been so long. I've missed you all. Me? What have I been doing? Well, I've been writing, which is the awful byproduct of this whole Famous Author thing...one must hold up one's end of the bargain.

I also have no photos to share except this one of my friend, Elliot. Elliot came to my reading at Bliss Spa and I really hope you can appreciate the full effect. Can you feel the Elliot-ness? Elliot is a very sparkly guy.

Also...big news: I was in Paris again and went on a perfume tour of all the great perfume houses in the city and I HAVE A NEW FAVORITE PERFUME! Editions de Parfums Frederick Malle is simply swimming in wonderfulness. I bought Le Parfum de Therese which is just so...I dunno...French. I also visited with my delightful friend Linlee at Colette. Linlee is a PR Goddess. She's moving to LA (for a boy, of course!) and will hopefully land a gig in the indy-movie-PR world. She was thinking that it might be fun to work with Drew Barrymore, so Drew...drop me a line and I'll connect you.

Meanwhile, if you are very gay and in need of a place to go, stop by Bryan Boy. He's my new Gay Best Turd World Boyfriend (GBTWB). Baboosh! (tm).

I hope to see you all so soon. New book almost complete. Paperback out this summer. Italian out this summer. French out as soon as they can figure out how to translate chutzpah.

I'm not Jackie Collins but I play her on TV

2006-10-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

So "Bad Girls" was quite a delicious evening. I'd like to thank Bad Boy James, her supreme highness, Cameron Tuttle, my rabid fans, Kevin & Batman who shut down the bar and Desmond, king of the false eyelash.

It should be noted that absolutely NOTHING I'm wearing is a natural fiber so at any given moment I could have gone up in flames. Oh, the risks I take for literary notoriety!

So I've nibbled at the fruits and berries and now it is time to go back into my cave (see below). See you in WONDERLAND, CA.

xxooxx

BAD GIRLS!!

2006-10-13T12:02:00.000-07:00

I've been dragged out of my slumber for what promises to be an evening of excitment and fabulous clothes.
InsideStoryTime presents:

"BAD GIRLS"
a lineup of Bay Area 'Bad Girl' authors!
Thursday October 19th
Rickshaw Stop
155 Fell Street (Hayes Valley, San Francisco)
7:00-9:00pm
$3-10 sliding scale
drinks and food available for purchase

I will be wearing my bubble gum pink patent leather Courreges minidress. What about you?
See y'all there!! xx

Enjoying a mental break

2006-07-09T21:35:00.000-07:00

I hope all of you won't mind while I take some time away from my blog to download my second book.

It's a dark and mysterious process shrouded in secrecy.

If you want all the scoop (when I have it), drips and drabs, the 'director's cut' if you will, please join my FAMOUS LIST.

Until then.

xx

Bestseller List, Hello!!!!

2006-06-12T06:11:00.000-07:00

A modern Haiku:

Sleepy Sunday Morning.
In the grips of jetlag.
Ambien just wearing off.
Morning birds chirping.
San Francisco Chronicle over coffee and eggs.
Turn page. Thinking nothing.
There she is.
Shiny and bright.
It's a lovely day.
The Bestseller List. I am on it.
I mean, my book is on it.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Call the world and tell them.
I exist.

Oh, Gay Paris!

2006-06-01T10:09:00.000-07:00

My Vuitton train cases are packed. My hats are in big fat boxes. Yes, I'm off to Paris - a wandering boheme's heme away from heme.

I will be buying a new perfume.
I will be flirting mercilessly with smelly French people. I will smoke.
I will stop by and say hello to Linlee at Collette (and leave her The Booster. She's been dying for it!).

I'll see you all upon my return, oui?

xxx

Cleavage GA-Lore

2006-05-29T21:56:00.000-07:00

Okay...so how far will a girl stoop to have a feature article written about her in the San Francisco Chronicle? Well...I say just far enough to show the world what she's made of!

Yes---after oodles of badgering, the Chronicle decided that yes, they like me, they really like me!

What does it all mean? I dunno---a hiker stopped me today on Cascade Trail and said "Are you the Famous Author?" I said, "Oh m'gawd...yes! That's me! I'M The Famous Author!"

Is this good or what? Anyway...they noticed my fabulous peek-a-boo shoes and new short shorts and at the end of the day that's all that really matters--right? So please drop me a line and say, YES, it was all worth it, Jennifer, I saw that article and yes...i DO want that Puimond corset and YES, I will check out THE BOOSTER.

I love you all.

xxx--moi.

Look Fabulous in Handcuffs!

2006-05-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

I can't believe this slipped by me without a blog mention. Maybe I was too busy with my jet-setting around the world for the fabulous Famous Author Book Tour.

In any case, I'd feel remiss in not pointing out to all my compulsive shoplifting friends that one should always have a roomy white mink poncho on hand for those nasty arrests. A perfect way to hide those unpleasant handcuffs!

So while shopping for your mink, you might begin the countdown to the gorgeous feature on yours truly and The Booster in the Style section of the San Francisco Chronicle. I promise sexy pics (the photographer convinced me to bring out my Custom Puimond Corset) and juicy dish.

Until then.

THE SUREFIRE QUERY LETTER IS HERE!!

2006-04-23T21:12:00.000-07:00

Okay...so enough of you have asked me about my patented (well, not really) 4-step plan to a Surefire Query Letter! You've also asked me to share my letter which went out to 12 agents. 22 responded within 3 weeks (many within days), each asking for exclusives. I ultimately went with an agent who never saw the letter.

It worked for me...good luck and tell me if it works for you - jennifer@jennifersolow.com

In any case, here are the 4 steps:

1. Make your first sentence STUNning. Remember that agents get 100's of these letters each day. Grab them by the gullet from the very beginning.

2. Synopsize your book in a quick and compelling way. Find a way to describe your book succinctly. You'll use that description gain and again at every juncture.

3. Offer up a reason why there is a market for your book (even for fiction). In other words, why will your manuscript be sellable. Do this in an uncoventional and tonally appropriate way.

4. Make a connection between the agent and you.
This could take networking and/or creativity. Research your choice agents to death - read their authors, find out where they went to highschool, find some way of making it feel like they're THE ONLY agent for your book. Because why? Tell them.

Everything else is up for grabs. I wrote 2 pages with a LOT of white space (most people write one, crowded page) and didn't send a writing sample. I put it in a big bright orange envelope and printed it out on heavy, expensive paper. I sent to 12 with 12 back-ups in the wings.

Here is my letter to Bill Clegg (now with William Morris). Despite the breezy tone, this was draft 36 and 3 months of revision. Bill responded with within 24 hours.

Bill,

I’d like to profess that stealing a box of Golden Life Henna in the 7th grade was the end of my illustrious shoplifting career, but if we’re getting down to the short hairs here, I also stole a tube of organic toothpaste from Whole Foods less than a year ago.
$12.95! For toothpaste! I mean, c’mon. Gift with purchase, I like to say.

Actually, I wouldn’t mine stealing something right now.

Christ, it’d be easier than writing this letter. Three years of work down to a page, page and a half. The pressure to be charming here is enormous, you must know.

Maybe this afternoon. When I finish the letter.

So my book’s called The Booster and our heroine is not that different from me. Or possibly a more fabulous me. The Carrie Bradshaw I am in my imagination.

Here’s what I say when people inevitably ask me, “so, what’s your book about?”
Upper East Side Jewish American Princess kleptomaniac living the seemingly quintessential Manhattan life, loses job, loses boyfriend, loses housekeeper and winds up (long story short) joining a Peruvian Shoplifting Ring.

It is here our klepto learns what’s truly important in her life. Ahf tsores aside, it’s a happy ending kind of story.

For our 29-year old heroine, shoplifting* is better than orgasms:

“… Her breath pounds out in heaves. Her teeth chatter, droplets of sweat trickle down her side sending out a rank perfume, her nipples harden. She swallows a mouthful of saliva, the gulp of it echoing in her head. A quick slide off with a nimble hand and poof…it is gone.”

Pulizer Prize winning author, Alison Lurie singled out The Booster for praise as “an emerging work” at Sewanee Writer’s Conference, characterizing it as “lively writing, true to the female experience.”

Bill, Augusten Burrows, author and friend, simply insisted (as is his way) that, “Haven Kimmel loves Bill Clegg,” and that I should send you a query. That was good enough for me.

Please send the enclosed postcard if you’d like to see a sample of The Booster.

Thank you for your consideration and time,

Jennifer Solow

*9 million American women shoplift. ‘Shoplifting’ is the new ‘Bulimia’. 9 million dirty little secrets sell a lot of books. And magazines. And t-shirts. And action figures.

--------
TO READ AN EXCERPT OF THE MANUSCRIPT HE SAW CLICK HERE.

A bribe from Seb Carroll. Honey Slave, Labour Organizer.

2006-04-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

For any of you who think I might not accept their dare, I bring you Seb, The Brave:
--------
Ok, how about this...

I'm going to talk about someone I know. Virtually. This person is a gifted, gifted writer. One of the best I've ever read, in fact. I'm quite serious. Every word that I have read is precise, necessary, meaningful. Style oozes from phrases like yoghurt being squeezed between your toes. The prose is prosaic, the the style is stylistic, and the rhythm is rhythmic. The metre is metrical, and the yard is yardical. Imagine taking a bath in warm honey, while being fed chocolates by a slave, and having your feet massaged by a professional honey-foot-massager. Well, imagine no longer.

If you want to experience this for yourself, simply click here: sebcarroll's blog.

Does that sound ok? If you could copy and paste it into your blog, then I'll think of something nice to write about your book...

:)
-------
I only hope you can repay me with equal public abandon

It's a mani-pedi. It's a reading. It's a mani-pedi reading.

2006-04-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

It was a rough night for a famous author!

FIRST, Bliss Spa invited me to do a reading AT THE SPA, complete with massages, eyebrow waxing and mani-pedis for all who braved the swanky trek up from the ground floor of the W Hotel.

THEN, as if this wasn't all grueling enough, I drank enormous Lemon Drops provided by the all-too-talented, Armand the bartender. I chatted it up with my friends and the local glitterati and received many compliments on my gorgeous but horrifically painful Manolo Blahnik spectator pumps (how very Carrie Bradshaw of me).

In any case, after completing my duties, I went home way too late, pooped and a bit blotto on cocktails and dreamt of Bliss sugar scrub massages.

The Famous Author World Tour

2006-04-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

Don't fret. If you missed missed me on tour, our paths may still cross one day. With just a little bit of dry cleaning and a few new pairs of shoes, I may be at it all again.

Perhaps on The Famous Author Summer Tour or The Famous Author European Tour or The Famous Author Mani-Pedi Tour (which begins at Bliss Spa San Francisco next Wednesday, April 19th. Call to reserve a spot: 415-817-4103...it's almost full, so call soon).

If you never want to miss out on another oppotunity again, join my FAMOUS LIST and maybe you will be invited to be a VIP at one of these exclusive (and sometimes rained out) events. You don't have to be famous to be Famous.

xx
Jennifer

IN PEOPLE MAGAZINE!

2006-04-10T14:01:00.000-07:00

As if appearing in Harper's Bazaar alongside Madonna is not enough to give this girl a glorious case of hives, this week, yes, oh m'gawd, I'm in People Magazine.

Of course they used the photo that my mother hates, "you're so much prettier in real life, sweetheart," and they angled the book in such a way that it points directly to my boob...but who cares. People Magazine. I mean, what is up from here?

So as you might expect, I'm taking some time off to celebrate - maybe throwing myself a party and watching the entire 2004 season of Nip/Tuck all at once. This takes a lot out of a girl. "Solow steals the show with this energetic debut!"..."Solow's achievement lies in her subtle portrayal of Jillian's motivation for stealing..." C'MON! I love this. This is splendid!

Too Hot for Stores

2006-03-26T18:54:00.000-08:00

I thought y'all'd get a kick out of one of the complete REJECT images for the cover. Look, you know me - I LOVED it. I suggested it. The response was complete horrified silence...like, "Oh-m-Gawd! Barnes & Noble would order exactly NO copies of this book, Jennifer!"

Is there something wrong with me? I'm starting to wonder. Why is it that all things completely inappropriate appeal to me? My mother was just visiting and People Magazine (yes, you heard correctly...my Famous Fame increasing as we speak) asked me for a photo. My mother said (echoing the sentiments of my publicist, agent and editor), "You're not going to send that Terry Richardson photograph, are you?" and I was like, "Yeah. What's the matter with it?"

I think there's literally a part of my brain that's missing: the couth part or maybe it's the modesty part or maybe it's just a kind of warped sense of humor that no one else gets. I dunno. So anyway, check People Magazine next week and see who won the argument.

Meanwhile, this week, read the gorgeous review of The Booster in The Boston Globe by my new hero, Carol Iaciofano! Carol (who's a brilliant writer in her own respect and should totally become a Famous Author!) writes, "Jennifer Solow has neatly dropped her literary beach towel near the spot of sand occupied by Kate White and Sophie Kinsella. There's hope in this story, and beach book season is just around the corner."

Is this cool or what?

Ode to Jac

2006-03-14T16:14:00.000-08:00

Yes, the day has arrived.
I received a note from the very first person (who is not my mother, my mother's friend, Pam, or my aunt Janie) who has finished the book.

Here is what Jac (an ex-lawyer-turned-writer from New York) says:

"Jennifer- I loved your novel. I read it one day- and refused to leave the apartment last Saturday, the first spring day in the City. I am just embarking on the publishing process with my first novel "Six Minutes In The City."

Now you may think that all Famous Authors are all cool-n-junk, but this one is secretly...well, not cool at all.

Thank you, Jac! I am rendered wordless.

P.S. Can someone publish "Six Minutes In the City" please!

Arianne Phillips was ROBBED!

2006-03-06T13:19:00.000-08:00

I finally had a friend who was nominated for an Oscar. This is a glorious time in any Famous Author's life...a time when phrases like, "My dear friend who's nominated for an Oscar..." or "My friend, Oscar-nominated..." etc etc come in handy.

But now that my dear friend lost the Oscar to a lesser movie and was RIPPED OFF of her rightly deserved status as "Oscar-winning-dear-friend" I must protest, though possibly in vain. I, even with my power and influence, can not turn back the clock 24 hours and protest this disgraceful abuse of justice.

Is Arianne (Ari to me, her dear-dear-Famous-Author-friend) Phillips not the greatest costume designer to ever live? Is Hedwig and the Angry Inch not the most fabulously styled and sewn array of hairy bits (she bloodied her poor fingers to the bone on that one) to ever be made into an outfit? Is Walk The Line not an example of finesse and subtlety of cut,color and material? Excuse me? Memoirs of a Geisha? ARIANNE PHILLIPS invented Memoirs of a Geisha (well, stolen from centuries and centuries of tradition and culture).

So here I sit, eating my bon bons and vicariously feeling the pain. Indeed even my Famous Author's photo was my homage to Arianne. If you come and see me on tour you will see an array of Arianne-styled outfits (Madonna's cast-off black Pucci shirt, Gucci, Coureges, vintage Jean Muir) and I must say, while many might feel that Best Movie should have been Brokeback or that Heath was upstaged by another year of mimicry, Arianne was the one I was routing for. She is the uncontested winner in my mind. There you have it.

Madonna and I are like this

2006-02-19T08:25:00.000-08:00

Harper's Bazaar hits the stands this week, indulging me, I must admit, in my lifetime dream: The Queen of the Universe and The Famous Author taking the same stage.

There are too many similarities to mention. While they title her piece, "Madonna's Secrets," and talk about her "oxygen facials", "buns of steel" and penchant for "foie gras" (funny that), they name my piece, "Dirty Little Secret", and call my debut "sharp," and a "Hot Pick Read" for April.
(They do not mention my buns of steel or intake of oxygen and overlook my love of goose gullet completely...but you can extrapolate.)

What's next?
Dinner and a day of riding lessons in Dorset-Wilshire?

Where have all the groovy chairs gone?

2006-02-16T07:48:00.000-08:00

I've basically been sleeping since Monday. I took a two-pound bag of dried satsumas and a box of Kleenex to bed hoping that 4 or 5 consecutive Ambiens might cure the horror of the New York Magazine gossip column piece about the book.
Did they read THE BOOSTER? Is the story NOT about a kleptomaniac who joins a Peruvian high fashion shoplifting ring? AN ENTIRE BOOK on Donny Deutsch? Hello! Anna Wintour he aint'. Woa is me.

So it got me thinking...remember all those cool chairs they used to have? Remember that album where Bobby Sherman is sitting on that really big red hand? Now THAT was a cover! Remember bean bag chairs when they were fer'real....like beans came out when you jumped on them?

Or maybe I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I'm feeling a little like Jessica Simpson, caught looking all ugly n' stuff walking out a hotel room wearing the shirt off her one-night-stand's back. Or maybe I'm just thinking about those great Bobby Sherman lyrics (okay, I'm making you think I'm really, really old here, right?)....Being' alone at night makes me sad. Yeah it brings me down all right. Tossin' and turnin' and freezin' and burnin' and cryin' all through the night.

More famous by the minute

2006-01-30T15:04:00.000-08:00

Am I allowed to gush for just a little moment?
This morning, THE BOOSTER got a starred review in Publisher's Weekly. Needless to say I feel like putting on a bad gown and screaming, "You really like me!" while running down my street.

Bear with me as I cite the thrilling moments:

First there was the star itself. We love stars. In general, all famous people love stars. Next there was the opener: "Solow's SPECTACULAR debut..."

Then there was a bunch of other stuff that was also really great. I will include the entire review because it IS MY BLOG, and I'm not sure that anyone besides me reads it so...for those of you who are not my mother but might still be interested, read below:

PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY
* Solow's spectacular debut sounds a warning to fashionista shopaholics while providing a healing catharsis that anyone grieving over the loss of a loved one can appreciate. "It is mine. It is mine. It is mine " is the mantra Jillian Siegel repeats before any major shoplifting expedition, believing her hobby is not a crime but her "birthright." The Upper East Sider's addiction to larceny increases after she loses her ad agency job just before the agency acquires the coveted Loevner's department store account. Loevner's had once been owned by Jillian's dying uncle Bingo, a beloved parental figure. As a little girl in bunny fur, Jillian had appeared in the original ad that defined Loevner's upscale glamour. After Shelly, a needy young drifter whom Jillian meets in jail in the wake of a tourist-trap incident, introduces Jillian into a Peruvian shoplifting ring, Jillian becomes the ring's star American booster. "Designer clothes are like armor" providing "protection from the masses," Jillian thinks, but by the thrilling wind-up, Solow, an ad agency veteran, has ripped the tags off this assumption, forcing Jillian to face what compels her to steal. (Mar.)

WHAT DO YOU EXPECT FROM US?!!!

2006-01-27T09:01:00.000-08:00

While it seems quite fashionable to weigh in on the whole James Frey controversy, to proclaim that writers are cheaters, thieves, deviants and murderers, every one, instead I'd like to discuss the unrealistically extreme expectations of the South Beach Diet.

How on earth is man expected to live without the evening martini? Without the late night gorge on dates, raisin bread, peanut butter and a bottle of beer? Now, as I have said before, this girl don't diet, BUT, if I did, I'd need something that involved pills, some expensive procedure, daily massages and oodles of moisturizer, not the elimination of the necessities.

First, we ask writers not to lie, THEN we ask a bevvy of Americans not to have French Toast with powdered sugar and maple syrup for breakfast! I am hopelessly dishonest and doomed to a life of carbohydrates. I may indeed have to find my culinary and literary freedom in another country.

Integrity

2006-01-21T13:13:00.000-08:00

1. I, Jennifer Solow, would do a movie where I had to shave my head.
2. I would not do a movie where I had to wear really ugly outfits.
3. I would do a movie where I had to kiss Kate Nauta.
4. I would do a movie where I had to gain 15 pounds (with physical trainer in contract).
5. I would not do a movie where I had to lose 15 pounds (over that).
6. I would not do a movie where I had to spew vomit.
7. I would not do a movie with Jessica Simpson.
8. I would not do a movie where I had to wear one of those fat suits.
9. I would, despite the bad luck, do a movie with Madonna.
10. I would not do a movie where a bloody woman comes out of the bathtub.

Why I love gay guys

2006-01-18T16:12:00.000-08:00

I am back from my fabulous tropical vacation with some horrifying news:
Wouldn't you know it, as the Pina Colada was just making its way to my lounge chair, I felt a little tickle in my throat - a burn, really, a cough and then some sneezing and snot.
I was sick.

But a gay guy knows that this is not the worst of it. He knows that coming home, unpacking the bikini and the diamonds and crawling into bed with a tub of Kleenex With Aloe Moisture is actually the lowest depths of all.

My dear friend and near-personal-stylist (who shall remain nameless unless I get an email from him saying that it's okay to be outted at 30ish in San Francisco), upon hearing the news had some marvelous advice.

I am reprinting it here because I think we all have something to learn.
Print is out. Put it up. Hold it in your heart.
(I love you, honey!)

****************************************************

Watch Oprah. Drink lots of herbal tea with honey. And insist to your man that,
strangely enough, expensive jewelry makes you feel better...

Take care, sweetie.
Call me when you're better - there's nothing more unjust than
being tan and sick at the same time.

****************************************************

Swimming With Sharks

2006-01-06T22:02:00.000-08:00

My agent has been warned, the auto-reply button on my email has been pressed, the dieting is done (it will be what it will be when the day is done) and three tanning sessions (high speed bed "Grand Lounge," 6 minutes, then 7, then 8) have been completed.

It is that time - the pre-book-launch vacation of a lifetime. The last time I will perhaps go anywhere without the prying cameras and the nasty literary stalkers. Ambergris Caye, Belize, is a fine place for an escape - in the middle of nowhere, papaya for breakfast, bologna sandwiches on the dive boat for lunch, steamed fresh catch for dinner.

So long you all. Until then.
xxx

What to bring to the party

2005-12-30T18:29:00.000-08:00

For those of you coming to my New Year's blowout, here's what we still need:

Brian & Karin are doing Brian's famous pork. Karin is making her dessert-thing and we HAVE to promise to smile and nod even if it's all messed up. You know how she gets.

Steph is bringing cookies. My guess is that the cookies I gave her will end up back here...but who cares - they're Dean & DeLuca cookies and someone gave them to me anyway.

Karen is coming late due to a so-called booty call which may or may not happen and a babysitter who may or may not show up and no matter what, I promised her I woudn't publish that sort of thing on my blog. So I won't. Unless it's really good.

AND...I'm completely annoyed about the whole illegal caviar situation. I thought those were ideal prices for beluga last year and I'm completely UP-set that I will not be drowning in the stuff this year. So, if you're really rich and you don't mind watching my teeth turn all black - you're welcome to bring that.

Believe it or not, I am doing a ciabatta. Yes, I'm a baker. A joker and a toker. The poolish is fermenting as we speak. Fresh bread and warm butter at midnight. Yum yum. As good as kisses.

Dana is bringing the wigs and music and Marcy is bringing the asprin - because Lord knows she has a TON of it at home and Greer isn't coming because who the hell knows where she is when she's not working - it's like she has some secret life or something. Jeeze. Jen WOULD be donating the bulk of the champagne, but seeing as she's busy with that whole scuba-diving-in-Australia thing, we won't count on her.

So - we still need: oodles of champagne (Blanc de Noir to win my heart), sparklers, party hats, the martini fountain, Campari, parchment paper, a drill, and someone needs to pick up Kiki from the airport.

See you tomorrow night. xx

I have a lipstick sickness.

2005-12-23T12:00:00.000-08:00

It had been exactly 3 to 5 business days since I ordered my Japonesque Double-Sided Professional Lipstick Palette Kit and I was salivating. Now, it would make sense if the company was paying me to be this excited, to actually feature their product in the sacred space that is T-FAC, but no - my anticipation, the waiting by the door for the UPS guy, was pure illness on my part, plain and simple.

Here's the deal - this thing holds ALL your lipstick! And I know I'm not the only one who thinks this is the greatest thing since thong underwear. This is pure wonderfulness - butter on a Ritz cracker.

So it finally comes on Wednesday night. I rip open the box and my glorious new palette. Like hope and promise itself - it gleamed before me. I already had my shoebox of lipsticks ready and waiting, some towels and a nail scissors. And I am a crafty girl in general so you can only imagine my excitement.

For nearly two hours I performed the transplants: "Russian Red" "Cha Cha Cha" "Goldmine" "Fetish" "Sugar Baby" "Cyber" "Diva" "O" - all sliced off at the base and lovingly pressed one by one into the waiting plastic pockets by my tender thumb. When I was done it was a sight to behold - my years of collecting, the glistening rainbow of my life, there together, like one magnificent family.

I am Jennifer Solow and I have a lipstick sickness.
And I am proud.

There's only one reason to be famous.

2005-12-16T11:52:00.000-08:00

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.

Party on wheels.

2005-12-13T16:33:00.000-08:00

Parties are like rollercoasters and Hellraiser movies; I used to have a greater tolerance, dare I say, an attraction to the gore of it all – now I’m just not sure they’re worth the extra eyeliner.

But when an invitation goes out for a Porn Star party, I just can’t help but find the personal motivation.

As was usual, I felt inspired by such a challenge to go for my personal best. This often includes a sense that I have out-wigged the competition, out-ruffled the cheerleaders, out-feathered even the drag queens. This is an expensive pursuit, requiring hours of online shopping and gobs of glue. Frankly, it tends to result in me alone in a corner – overdressed, forgoing a cocktail due to my sticky lipstick, but I stay the course nonetheless.

The Porn Star party was different.
I decided to go Rollergirl.

As the character, not only was I embraced by all (the world, as I now know, LOVES Rollergirl), but I was on wheels. San Francisco on roller skates added that special spice to an otherwise dull commute and a party in motion is better than a party standing still.
Thus the lesson.

So, my legal council advises me that I should caveat this entry with the sincere recommendation that you should not try this without a special license or whatever it is they give to people attempting to self-inflict bodily harm, but me – I’m going Rollergirl from here on in.

I'll keep you posted.

The most fashionable guy in New York.

2005-12-10T13:05:00.000-08:00

I met Marshall Heyman from W Magazine on a blustery New York City morning a few days ago. One might assume that working at the hopelessly fashionable magazine might require a kind of vast closet - a trunk-full of bling, a drawer full of dark Chanel sunglasses. And worse yet, being a man who works at W! - a fey dandy with a bow tie, an Andre Leon Talley wanna-be.
Thankfully however, Marshall Heyman was none of those things.

He had just rolled out of bed at 8:00 am, thrown on whatever sweatshirt was closest to his feet and was still working out the kinks of his left contact lens as he walked through the door of the cafe on 6th.

"I just live upstairs," he grumbled as he reached for his coffee and rubbed at his eye.

Now even a very famous author like myself should not presume that Marshall Heyman was all that interested in moi on an early, early Friday morning. And why should I, what with so much Mary Kate to think about? Instead I was privvy to the best gossip in New York, stories of the fabulous parties he was either dying to attend or plotting to avoid and, if I was so inclined, could get the Cliff-Note rundown of every movie playing in America. (Indeed he was off to see Munich on its opening day after breakfast and hinted lovingly at SJP's Oscar potential for The Family Stone).

Now I don't know if W Magazine or Marshall Heyman will ever utter a peep about THE BOOSTER or me in any sort of public fashion, but I happily paid for breakfast anyway (yes, Marshall, you tried and tried and tried to pay the bill yourself!). I was perfectly entertained, informed and satiated with an overload of buttery carbs and caffeine. Plus I made Marshall Heyman pinky swear that he'd take me out for a night of his infamous karaoke next time I was in town. I do a Patsy Cline like nobody's business.

I'll keep you posted.