Lux Lotus

Postcard From Los Angeles

On Shimmer

Just back from my short stroll to the ocean, barefoot and in pearls. Now, happily dressing for a black tie event with sand in my hair.

Letter From Los Angeles

So far this morning, edited two press releases for clients, aiming to broker a major media exclusive for one of them, getting picked up for work at 12:30, meeting with editors later on, etc. Right now the sensible thing to do is walk down to the beach and annotate my copy of Madame Bovary, which I'll discuss, alongside Michael Cunningham, for Time Out New York at McNally Jackson on 2/28.

On Sparkle

Pictured, at top: Tayari Jones, my first publicity client in 2005, in the running for a 2012 NAACP Image Award for her latest novel, Silver Sparrow. What a pleasure and an honor it is for me to accompany her on the red carpet! We met Jacqueline Jones LaMon (bottom), herself nominated in the poetry category, for a glass of champagne on our way to the party. Look how the stars shine.

Having spent most of my evening looking at Los Angeles from the back of a Town Car, I am now happy to be back in my hotel room, eagerly awaiting my dinner being brought up on a tray. 

Related, from the Lux Lotus archives: the last time I walked a red carpet (Rome), ordered room service (Chicago), and was in L.A. 

On Time Zones

My favorite financier chimes in from a business trip somewhere in Western Europe:  If bored after nap, write me as I'm a light sleeper.

Postcard From Venice

My balcony door is open, with the screen shut and the curtain floating on the afternoon breeze, uncommonly cool for Los Angeles, and I'm delighted by the ocean, a vast blue glittering beyond a fringe of palms that was far too underrated in my mind. Red carpet stuff tonight and tomorrow, engagements with editors and critics every night; my days for New York deadlines. A little leisure? Maybe in the cards: a surfer will drive me up to Ojai if I agree to leave early enough so that he can catch some waves.

On Perception

I have just arrived home from work, and need to leave for the airport in five hours. I'm so tired that I could cry, but honestly, I just don't have the energy. I am happy to fly to sunny Los Angeles, and plan to sleep for four days straight at my hotel on the beach, more or less. A reporter from my favorite newspaper in the world writes tonight to ask, "What's your secret [with men]? Am dying to know!" While I get some beauty sleep between now and Tuesday, I'll let you put forward theories, here in the comments.

On Confluence

He asked me my idea of a holiday –– "five-star hotel anywhere, as long as there's room service and I don't have to look at my BlackBerry," which he admitted that he could have guessed. I asked him his, and he told me the story of his last one, which involved some kind of salt merchants trading by camel on an African trade route letting him tag along. We... could... go... to... Morocco, I announced, brightening considerably, "and you could go and do your thing, and I could..." "Yes," he smiled, "I would, and I'd come back to you getting fanned in the castle." Perfection.

On Timing

A diplomat, met in passing at a dinner party last week, looked me up a day or two later and explained that socializing outside of a war zone is new for him and he didn't realize that he wouldn't see me again. My initial impression would be that he may be the most down-to-earth person I've met in a while (he surfs on vacation), although he seems to have no expectation whatsoever that I should be ordinary at all. He's picking me up this evening on his way down from the Upper East Side. What to wear for oysters, caviar and champagne?

On Nostalgia

Going out with Ben tonight –– click here, for me as a girl.