Book Review: The Probable Future by Alice Hoffman

The foundation for this novel is its lyrical, lovely and relentless sense of place. Set in a small, history-ridden village outside Boston, Alice Hoffman begins her story with an appropriate yet fanciful description of Massachusetts winters. As intrinsic as the plot and the people, the buildings, homes, streets and trees in which her characters live have lives and essences of their own. This was probably my favorite part of the book. I loved the mystical, folklore element that permeates every page. To illustrate, I just opened one at random and here's a sentence describing the local library:

"Matt especially liked the collections room when it rained; he felt as though he were in a fishbowl, swimming toward knowledge, diving into the journals of the Hathaways and the Elliots and the Hapgoods."

And the aforementioned passage on Massachusetts:

"Anyone born and bred in Massachusetts learns early on to recognize the end of winter. Babies in their cribs point to the brightening of the sky before they can crawl. Level-headed men weep at the first call of the warblers. Upstanding women strip off their clothes and dive into inlets and ponds before the ice has fully melted, unconcerned if their fingers and toes turn blue [...] Who could blame the citizens of Massachusetts for rejoicing when spring is so close at hand? Winter in New England is merciless and cruel, a season that instills a particular melancholy in its residents and a hopelessness that is all but impossible to shake."

Needless to say, it's clear that part of Hoffman's writing style and charm are a result of her exaggerated prose. As a lifelong Massachusetts resident, I'd like to think my life and mood are not entirely defined by the weather. When I look out on the gray, early November sky outside my window and the rapidly thinning trees, however, I can't deny that Hoffman has hit a nerve.

It's not the only time she does so in this labyrinthine and whimsical book. Despite her meticulous attention to physical environment, Hoffman also devotes time and energy to issues intangible: mother-daughter relationships, alcoholism, and death. In fact, her ruminations on death are unwavering and impressive.

The Probable Future is more than a "fairy tale" (The New York Times Book Review) or a "magical escape" (Marie Claire). In ways, it is certainly both of these things, but also more - it has the mysticism of a fairy tale and the distance of a magical escape. But it is very much grounded in reality - of love unspoken, of regrets and dreams unrealized, and of the confusion of youth and the clarity of old age. It is the rarely successful combination of the real and the ethereal that makes Hoffman's novel a real accomplishment - and a special, not easily forgettable read.

Anna Wintour and The September Issue

The endless fascination with Anna Wintour has only intensified recently, largely as a result of the recession (as all eyes have been on Conde Nast, watching and waiting to see how they would cut costs in the face of swiftly falling magazine profits), but also because of this fall's documentary, released on select large screens on August 28th, The September Issue.

I dragged my boyfriend to see this movie on one rainy Saturday night last month, after my mom and I failed to find a theatre featuring the movie close to our home in central Massachusetts, and after plans with my friend and coworker Sarah fell through. Ever the good sport, flexible eater and easygoing accomplice, Alex followed me into a Loews on the upper West side, where I wrestled our way into the two last decent seats in the auditorium.

I'm not sure what I was expecting - perhaps something grander, revealing a slice of the extreme elite, luxe life Anna Wintour is privy to as a result of her position. But what I found was something different.

The movie opens with several testimonials from people who work with Ms. Wintour, like flame-haired Creative Director Grace Coddington (whose role in the movie is just as, if not bigger than, Anna's herself) and Vogue publisher Tom Florio (a down-to-earth, kind and gracious man I was lucky enough to hear speak while at Columbia Publishing Course), who expound on the mighty and supreme status Anna holds not just at Vogue, or in the realm of magazines and fashion, but in the world. I believe I'm recalling accurately that one person literally said she was the most powerful woman in the world, without a hint of irony.


In fact, the movie convinced me not only that a job at Vogue isn't necessarily the dream career of a lifetime, but neither is Anna Wintour's job - or maybe just her life.

Bee Schaeffer, Anna's daughter and the spark that started Teen Vogue, is featured a few times in the film, and every time it is at home, with or without Anna. For me, the most interesting part of the documentary by far was the insight it lent into Ms. Wintour's family dynamics. Bee, for example, is planning on going to law school, saying of her mother's profession: "I really don't want to work in fashion. It's just not for me. I respect her, obviously, but it's just a really weird industry. It's just not for me. She wants me to be an editor. I would never put it down, but I just don't want to take it too seriously. People in there act like fashion is life. It's really amusing, but if that's your career- there are other things out there, seriously."

At one point, Anna asks her daughter's opinion on a potential cover shot, and appears surprisingly invested in her daughter's reaction. I guess it just goes to show you that no matter how cold-blooded and cutthroat someone might appear to be, family still has the ability to get under their skin. In a poignant moment during one of Ms. Wintour's few direct interviews, we see a crack in her polished exterior of flawless ensembles and no-nonsense interactions. Speaking about her two brothers and one sister, all of whom have made careers out of political, justice and rights-related issues, she says quietly, "I think they're very amused by what I do. They're... they're amused, so."

Anyone at all interested in this woman has likely heard the story she tells anyone about how she ended up where she is: In filling out an application that asked her career ambition, her father, a British newspaper editor, said, "Well you want to be Editor of Vogue, of course." Says Anna, laughing, "That was it. It was decided."

While I've always had the sneaking suspicion that Anna Wintour's supposed inhumanity has been over-hyped, The September Issue both confirmed my instinct and dashed my high-flying hopes that this woman leads the most glamorous life there is (as The Devil Wears Prada would have audiences believe). She might have standing personal invitations from every designer to fashion shows and fetes, she might have a shiny car service with blackout windows and all the Starbucks in the world at her disposal; she might even have a lovely daughter and lots of friends to enjoy the frills that come along with her position. But even in an industry with some of the most talented, brilliant people there are, Anna Wintour has been at the top with people bending over backwards to satisfy her every whim for twenty years and counting. Wouldn't that get boring after awhile?

What Would We Be Without Wishful Thinking?

Jeff Tweedy asks this question in one of my favorite Wilco songs, Wishful Thinking. Everyone thinks, everyone wishes. Think about it. How much of life is purely thinking about something you don't have? How much time do people spend thinking wishfully about a person, a job, or certain traits or events? Being thin. Getting married. Having a baby. Attaining your dream job. Your dream home or apartment. A certain possession.

There's nothing wrong with wishing for something. Thinking about your goals in a positive way is actually proven to be one of the most effective ways to help them manifest. The ideal situation is supposedly to actually enjoy thinking about the things that you want, even if you don't have them that.The key is that when you emerge from that fantasy, to be okay with the fact that it isn't real. Yet. If you get stuck on the fact that you don't yet have the things you want, this will become your status quo, and it's literally impossible for those things to come to you.

This phenomenon has been observed and explored by many spiritual leaders and philosophers. Everyone has a different way of saying it, but anyone can observe this happening if they try. The person who has been overweight forever, who wants to be thin more than anything else but just can't seem to make it happen, either does not believe deep down that they can or will lose weight, or cannot stop focusing on the reality: that they are still fat. When this is the case, when you give the present that much power and attention, it's impossible for something new and different to replace that perceived reality.

People overestimate the importance of perception. What you see is not what you have to get. Strategic thinking and creative action can be an amazingly powerful combination for transforming your life. This is surprisingly easier done than said. It requires minimal effort; in fact, any action or thought that feels like work is one that should be immediately dismissed. Life, the new "happiness" school of thought tells us, is not supposed to feel like work. Proponents of this philosophy advocate such pleasant axioms as:

-Being selfish is the best thing you can do for anyone else (because unless you are happy, you have little to offer other people)
-Doing and thinking what feels good should be everyone's number one priority
-Anything that feels bad is bad

While this recipe seems oddly simple, and in some ways it is, it won't work unless you understand the subtext. It does not mean that if you are at work, and you feel unhappy, you should quit. Rather, you should change your way of thinking. Says Eckhart Tolle, a leading spiritual teacher and author of A New Earth, "You are present when what you are doing is not primarily a means to an end - money, prestige, winning - but fulfilling in itself, when there is joy and aliveness in what you do. And of course, you cannot be present unless you become friendly with the present moment. That is the basis for effective action uncontaminated by negativity."

The point seems to be staying positive. Eckhart tells us that this isn't as hard as it sometimes seems when you realize that all you have to deal with and stay positive about is this one moment. Once you have that down, it doesn't seem so unrealistic to imagine a future filled with sunshine and rainbows.

Yoga in a Bottle?! I'm Sold.

So, I'm a semi-frequenter of hippie shops. You know - whenever we cross paths. I mean, why not? They're kinda great. They have everything from all natural tea, organic food and body products (lip balm addiction anyone?) to candles, music, incense and medicine.

The last time I was in one of these stores, my mom and I were standing in line and she picked up this wee yellow spray-bottle and said, "HANNAH, I've been meaning to get you one of these... you need it!"

It was Bach Rescue Remedy spray, which claims to help de-stress you naturally with two quick spritzes to the tongue. It works, it really works! I just have no idea how. It actually tastes kinda alcohol-y... and, whoops, when you look at the ingredients, alcohol makes up 27%! Is there anything more to this supposed "natural remedy" than an itty-bitty taste of booze, perhaps combined with some lemony-chamomile-y herbs? I sort of doubt it... But who cares?

While it's not QUITE yoga in a bottle, it's cheap and tiny, and kinda nice to have with you in your bag if you suddenly feel overwhelmed at work or in the subway. So GET SOME!

Not All Music is Driving Music.

Due to a series of misadventures, yesterday I found myself in the car by myself for 7 hours. And I did a lot of music listening. The following are not new songs, but rather great classics that I rediscovered, with the exception of the last one, which I never really appreciated until I was alone in my car in the middle of nowhere on an endless drive. I was in sort of a fall state of mind - the weather has suddenly turned crisp and sweater-worthy, which I love. It's actually my favorite season. Anyway, I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular, but I also was in a more serious musical mood than upbeat pop or hip-hop. And isn't music always about mood? Especially when driving.

"What the Snowman Learned About Love" by Stars. I first fell in love with this song 2 years ago. It was during a winter drive in Vermont. I was in a pickup truck with my brother, and it was an endless January vision out the window. It's kinda trippy, but also just plain pretty, and while you kind of have to be in the mood for it to fully appreciate it, I still never get sick of it.

P.S. this clip is from a ski movie, Long Story Short, but it was the only decent version I could find.

"Down on the River by the Sugar Plant" by Mike Doughty. Sorry it's not a real video, but at least the song is good quality. My relationship with Mike Doughty began freshman year of college, when I was introduced to his music by my friend Alyssa, whom I met first semester while studying abroad in France. She played "Rising Sign" while a bunch of us were watching the Visualizer on her ghetto Dell laptop, bored from hours on a coach bus touring Bourgogne and slightly stoned after a few hits of crappy hash. Oh, college. Oh, Europe.

"Heaven Adores You" by Earlimart. When this song came on shuffle last night, I shivered because the guy's voice reminded me so much of Elliott Smith. It turns out this whole album, Treble & Tremble (2004), is a tribute to E.S., whose chronic depression/ tortured genius misery ended in suicide by stabbing in '03. To me this song is one of those "soundtrack to my life" songs... It seems like it should be the background music to the closing scene of a deep and meaningful movie or something. The most melancholy of the three songs here, it's good for contemplating, ruminating and zoning out.

Happy listening.

Randomly Observed

Can we talk about the similarities between Pinkberry and Twitter (the frozen yogurt company and the social networking website)? Visually speaking, I mean. Think about it: the pastel colors (baby blues and pinks) and odd, modern, minimalist decorative tendencies? For instance, I just clicked on my Twitter page and got this message " Something is technically wrong. Thanks for noticing - we'll have things back to normal soon." As if, if the Twitter techies don't repair my tweet homepage ASAP I might have a minor breakdown. The tone is all soothing and personal.

And here's what it looks like...

Ads for Pinkberry's new delivery service (available in New York only, of course) are similarly cutesy, colorful and minimalist at the same time.

And both logos use a rounded, pastel font:

Odd - yet undeniable no? It kinda goes back to this post I did awhile ago about the return of all things wholesome and pure. Something about it appeals to people. The whole concept of "tweeting" (like little birdies, we announce our gossip and thoughts in adorable, high-pitched online "tweets"!) is sort of sugar-coated. And there's no need to plumb the metaphoric symbolism of sweet, adorable happy design in a place like Pinkberry, whose (very lucrative) business is that of feeding the insatiable American sweet tooth, especially when the experience is all bright lights, boppy music and energetic, ever-smiling staff (aren't they?!). Pinkberry even has the whole "green" and "all-natural" cravings satisfied - every product's calories are listed proudly beside its price, and the sign announces the yogurt's beneficial live cultures. What don't these two new-age, pretty-pretty, everything-positive brands have to be happy-happy about? And now with Pinkberry's new delivery service, you can even consume their two very different products at the same time.

Sometimes the Only Cure for Writer's Block is a Good, Old-Fashioned List... Here's Mine:

Californication's Hank, a writer (played by David Duchovny)

1. What I'm reading: The Night of the Gun by David Carr, Do the Windows Open? by Julie Hecht and Tender is the Night by Scott Fitzgerald ....Yes, I read multiple books at once, always have. Unless it's reeeeally good, I get subject ADD.

2. What I'm listening to: "I Turn My Camera On" by Spoon, "Mexican Dogs" by Cold War Kids, "Body Control" by Leighton Meester ... oh and also having a bit of a Strokes relapse

3. What I'm watching: Californication, United States of Tara

4. What I'm thinking about: My trip to New York this past week, the 2 interviews I had, what my future holds (consulted Susan Miller, of course, who claims I have good things coming in my professional life in early Sept.)

5. What I'm doing tonight: Driving down to the South Shore to hang out with my friend Kalli and her brother JT in Boston

The New Venice: What New Orleans Might Have Been

This really smart article is about New Orleans and its post-Katrina potential to adopt the Venetian water street system.

I've been only to Rome and nowhere else in Italy, but I can't help but remember Elizabeth Gilbert's critique of Venice in Eat, Pray, Love, which I happened to read while studying abroad in Athens.

Here are her thoughts on the "stinky, slow, sinking, mysterious, silent, weird city":

"Venice seems like a wonderful city in which to die a slow and alcoholic death, or to lose a loved one, or to lose the murder weapon with which the loved one was lost in the first place. Seeing Venice, I'm grateful that I chose to live in Rome instead. I don't think I would have gotten off the antidepressants quite so quick here. Venice is beautiful, but like a Bergman movie is beautiful; you can admire it, but you don't really want to live in it [...] The beautiful young Venetian woman who owns the restaurant near where we are staying is miserable with her fate. She hates Venice. She swears that everyone who lives in Venice regards it as a tomb."

"Invisible Cities" breaks down and refutes this reaction, which is not a new one:

"When we insist that these cities are doomed, perpetually dying, we manufacture sublime visions of distress that prevent us from understanding how they might be saved... We develop a tourist's gaze, which allows us to feel a bittersweet pity for 'doomed' people and 'vanishing' ways of life that we will never know, nor be forced to feel responsible for. When we travel to such cities, we believe that we might learn something about ourselves, 'other' cultures, 'human frailty' - but often we are learning precisely the habits and ways of seeing that will preserve us from such experience."

But how did people begin to get this idea? "I had no idea Venice had that association," my boyfriend said to me.

Apparently, it's rooted in Venetian literary history, "which has developed since the city's end in 1797 at the hands of Napoleon. Thereafter Venice became little more than a backwater in European politics, occupied first by Austrians and, ever since, by tourists. Outsiders like Lord Byron began to develop an aesthetics of the city that focused less on its imperial past and possible future, and more on its apparently depressed, moribund, and timeless present. The idea of a 'sinking city' became irresistible as symbol [...] [John] Ruskin's successors - Henry James, Marcel Proust, Thomas Mann, Mary McCarthy, among many others - have merely confirmed and reconfirmed his view of a dead, Narcissus-like city, so much so that McCarthy was able to declare in 1963, perhaps wistfully, that 'tourist Venice is Venice,' and attempts to find the 'real' city would always already be forfeit."

The notion that perceptions of different places are often manipulated and cemented into place by literature is not a new one either. In The White Album, Joan Didion observes:

"Certain places seem to exist mainly because someone has written about them. Kilimanjaro belongs to Ernest Hemingway. Oxford, Mississippi, belongs to William Faulkner. A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itslef, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his image, and ot only Schofield Barracks but a great deal of Honolulu itself has always belonged for me to James Jones."

I agree with the latter notion that people's perceptions are so often determined (without them realizing it) by people who came before them. "Invisible Cities" reveals a harsh truth about the rhetoric and 'romance of doom.' It's an easy out for many Americans to liken New Orleans to Venice, cities that are talked about and visited often, but are also subconsciously accepted as having fates that are out of our hands.

For me, Memphis belongs to Elvis and Paul Simon; Concord to Louisa May Alcott; Walden Pond to Ralph Waldo Emerson. The French Riviera belongs to Scott Fitzgerald and Los Angeles to Joan Didion. Indeed, people with sufficient talent can take a place, mold it like clay with their words, and give it entirely new meaning. But can a city like New Orleans break from the chains of perception? Is it people who make the cities they live in, or do some places have a life of their own?

Extravagantly Noted

This is a pile of notebooks gathered from around my bedroom (I'm sure there are more hidden on shelves, in closets & drawers). In this pile, there are spiral notebooks, leather notebooks, still-wrapped notebooks (for when I finish my current notebooks), half-ripped out notebooks (I have a bad habit of looking at what I've written later and thinking it's dumb), school notebooks, personal notebooks, 4 small Moleskine notebooks (the "legendary notebook of Hemingway, Picasso and Chatwin"), lined and unlined notebooks; you get the idea.

Superfluous, you think? Unnecessary? I can't help it. I don't know what it is about pretty notebooks and journals, stationary, pens and lists. I gravitate to and accumulate them. They give some sort of pleasure with an associated productivity that is magnetic and seductive to me. On my laptop screen, I have two Mac "stickies" with the titles: TO DO (general), MONDAY NIGHT and SOON.

If this behavior sounds familiar, I would guess that you might be just as enamored as I was last week in Kennebunkport, when I happened upon what I think might be not the quaintest or prettiest notebook I've ever seen, but the most practical and useful (equally appealing, albeit in a different way). It's called a Life Log. Which I suppose all notebooks are, in one form or another.

The moment I saw it, I wanted it. Upon flipping through it, I was only further captivated and positive that this one purchase would be the one to complete my life (fellow shoppers, you know the draw of this feeling).

This Health Log by Knock Knock has five genius different sections: A Food Log, an Exercise Log, a Body Log, Sleep Log, and Habit Log.

What sorts of details might one write down about these types of things?

For sleep, you can keep track of time to bed, wake time, mid-sleep wake-ups, sleep quality, caffeine intake, late eating, alcohol intake and more. For general body, there are categories for recent medical visits, future visits you need to schedule, current medications and vitamins, heart rate, blood pressure, weight and upcoming body goals. And so on and so forth, for habits, food and exercise.

They market it to health-minded friends, family, or those "just starting out on lifestyle changes."

They forgot the demographic of list-making notebook lovers comme moi who just like to write stuff down, in case I might want to know it later. It gives me a sense of calm to know I'm keeping track of and recording things; that way I don't have to do it in my head.

Brilliant, no?

Vince: The Fall Collection is Here

The Best of Vince: Fall 2009

Fringed square cashmere scarf:

Gorgeous.

(In Wild Grape, Nile Blue, or Black)

Herringbone boyfriend jacket:

Sexy.

Paper leather jacket with draped lapel:

Sexier.

Jersey and leather miniskirt:

Sexiest.

Oversized silk ivory blouse:

Classic & classy.

Cable fingerless gloves:

Cozy.

Hooded sweater coat:

Lovely.

Jersey harem pants:

Tomboy-cool.

Oversized cable cardigan:

Timeless staple.

(In one color only: Coastal)

What you get with Vince: Wardrobe classics with beautiful lines and quality fabrics that last forever.

What you don't get: Extreme innovation, risk. Vince isn't for when you're in the mood for anything too hip or trendy. It's as timeless as it is modern, and the fit is perfection, but simplicity is the name of Vince's game.

What Is So Compelling About Meryl Streep?

She's held some of the most memorable and notorious film roles in modern Hollywood history. According to IMDB, she's "considered by many movie reviewers to be the greatest living film actress."

She riveted us in The Devil Wears Prada as Anna Wintour's icy alter ego (and with her unforgettable deadpan, "Florals? In spring? Groundbreaking"). We couldn't take our eyes off her sloppy, singing self when she played Donna Sheridan in the converted Broadway musical Mamma Mia (yes, Ms. Streep actually sang). And if you've seen her latest coup of a role, as Julia Child in Julie and Julia, you'll agree: She's done it again.

With a relentlessly theatrical sing-song voice and persona, which is apparently a dead-on imitation of how Ms. Child actually was, Ms. Streep chatters, flourishes and comically cooks her way through this sweet, happy cream puff of a film.

As the New Yorker aptly put it: "Julia Child, in The French Chef - her first TV series, which began in 1963 - was amazingly quick. Moving her pots and pans and little bowls of chopped onions and clarified butter around the counter, she might have been a three-card-monte player in Times Square. In Julia and Julia, Nora Ephron, who wrote and directed, and her star, Meryl Streep, push the mannerisms a bit. Like a tall ship in full sail, Streep leans, tilts, and billows. Odd explosions of air - whoops, exclamations - come hurtling through the passageways. She runs out of breath, then settles, mysteriously, like an old Bible that italicizes ordinary words, on a single syllable. It's all extremely funny, but Ephron and Streep stop short of camp. They know that there's no way anyone can make, or would want to make, Julia Child look second-rate."

I would imagine this is true. But I know more about Meryl Streep than I do Julia Child, and I think her true talent lies in her ability to play a persona, real, made-up, living or dead, midway between how the public might like to imagine this person, and how that person really was.

Take Anna Wintour, for example. She is, without a doubt, the most successful female editor in fashion. And if we're honest, we know that all the tales of the dragon lady clearly mask something more real, complex, and probably just as worth talking about - a strong, highly intelligent and ambitious woman who shot to the top of an ultra-competitive, cutthroat field. But that's not the story The Devil Wears Prada aims to tell. Viewers are not interested in how or why Ms. Wintour did what she did to get where she is; what they want to see is her humanlessness, her lack of mercy and compassion for a young go-getter who just wants to get through this crappy, shallow fashion job so she can become a New York journalist. And that she does.

But I digress. What was, and is so compelling about Streep in roles like Anna Wintour and Julia Child, is she makes the inaccessible figures of fame feel tangible to the ranks of average Americans. We get to gasp in shock and hiss in dismay when "Miranda" orders her poor assistant Andy, who is at dinner with her very distressed father, to "GET ME HOME!" from Florida, where a hurricane rages outside. We get to love and hate Miranda Priestly simultaneously (for who doesn't reel with satisfaction during her monologue about Andy's lumpy blue sweater, which is actually cerulean, and was in fact "selected for her by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff"?).

The same is true for Meryl Streep playing Julia Child. Ms. Child is lovable, endearing and down-to-earth (I fought the urge to refer to her as Julia). When her husband, Paul, asks her over dinner at a Parisian restaurant as Julia is trying to decide what to do with her time in France, "What is it you REALLY like to do?" She replies, bubbily as ever: "Eat!"

Now really, who can't relate to that?

Astrological Absorption

In the September issue of Elle, Editor-in-Chief Roberta Myers advises us at the end of her Editor's Letter to "Check out our new horoscope pages by AstrologyZone.com author Susan Miller... Susan has an incredible following, and we're thrilled to welcome her to ELLE!"

Intrigued by the apparently genuine enthusiasm of an editor so successful as Ms. Myers, I obediently turned to page 494.

"As soon as Labor Day is over," read the Gemini horoscope, "you'll need to hit the ground running, as a major career development is about to culminate around the 4th. Your expenses will be high due to the tour of feisty Mars in your income house, and getting a raise will be difficult. Bide your time... In September's second half, you'll be ready to take on a big responsibility at home before making big changes on the job. This could involve buying your first house, renovating your kitchen... Remember, you're an adaptable Gemini- you'll wind up on top."

Encouraged, I decided to visit Ms. Miller's website, AstrologyZone.com. After all, my two big life goals right now are obtaining a job and an apartment, and she'd just given me a rosy outlook on both.

"Susan has received worldwide acclaim for her accurate, comprehensive monthly forecasts on Astrology Zone," trumpets Susan Miller's website. "Her site generates a following of six million unique readers per month and 17 million page views." Impressive. No wonder Elle, InStyle, and CosmoGirl had all turned to Ms. Miller for their horoscope pages. I mean, we all read them, right? Because why not? It takes 30 seconds, and it's always entertaining to read something supposedly "personalized." Even though we're all savvy enough to know that it's probably a hack, it's fun and harmless. We all forget about it within five minutes, right?

Wrong. Yesterday I read Ms. Miller's August astrological forecast for Geminis (May 21-June 21) and I've far from forgotten it.

"As you may have guessed, month could turn out to be as sweet as a ripe peach. The full moon lunar eclipse in Aquarius, August 5, has your name written all over it... Publishing and broadcasting projects will glow, and sudden opportunities to write, speak, or lecture may come up out of the blue. If your birthday falls on June 4, plus or minus 5 days (mine is June 9), this full moon eclipse will benefit you in ways that may amaze you.

Later in the month, there will be more emphasis on communication arts, and this will be a result of the new moon, August 20. As you see, this month will be really up your alley, for virtually all the areas highlighted will be ones associated with Gemini. Lecturing and speaking, writing, editing, proofreading, teaching, selling, marketing, shipping and travel, public relations, publicity, advertising, and copywriting all will be blessed by the new moon, August 20. These are the very areas that you, as a Gemini, are usually drawn to - the "news" and information industries are 'you.' "

As if this forecast were not eerily relevant enough to my life, Ms. Miller goes on to name certain days to be aware of.

"Difficult days include August 21, when your ruler, Mercury, will oppose Uranus. You are likely to be very tense, and things will be subject to Murphy's Law - If things can go wrong they probably will, sooner or later... It is not a day for a big date, big meeting, or big negotiation. Keep your head down and out of the line of fire."

Fascinatingly, August 21 was a bad day. My mom and my brothers and I were packing up to leave my grandmother's beach house in Wells, Maine, because we'd heard a nasty forecast for rain that afternoon and that whole weekend. We were planning on getting up early, washing all the sheets and towels, packing up the car and stopping for breakfast on the way home. From the very beginning, everyone was irritable with one another. After we finally got out of the house and were in the car, my mom and I got into a fight because I found a CD I'd made her for Christmas scratched and ruined. By the time we got over it and sat down to eat, my brother and mom started to fight about whether he was going to move in with one of his friends who my mom doesn't like. The whole day was like this, until we got home and the tension dissolved because we got some space from each other.

Point being: Anything that could have gone wrong did. Even though it should have been a perfectly pleasant trip. Props, Ms. Miller.

And then: "The weekend of August 15-16 gets gold stars for a quick trip out of town. You may travel again after the new moon appears, August 20, and those trips (which will be close by and quick) may bring strong profit potential. In fact, in weeks or months ahead, you may notice you are traveling much more frequently."

Interesting. Last weekend, the one mentioned above, is the one during which I drove from Cape Cod to Harvard, Mass., met up with Alex, and we drove up to Maine together. And had an amazing time. Also, her prediction regarding future travels certainly applies to the the back-and-forth between not only these New England locations but New York, where I hope to return in the next couple weeks.

I'm starting to see why this woman has such an enormous following. If Susan Miller was right about these matters, what else does she know about my future?

I may find out on August 26, when she warns that "I may find that someone is very forceful about a financial matter." Her advice: "Don't cave in, but if you do fight back, have your facts straight."

I'll let you know how that goes.

Rich Hippie: Bliss

Last summer, while shopping in Portsmouth, New Hampshire with my mom, I discovered what has become one of my favorite perfumes: Rich Hippie.

Deliciously paradoxical in name, Rich Hippie is a line of organic scents. The company has been featured in Elle, British Vogue, and Body & Soul, among other magazines. And rightly so. With over 2o different perfumes (including 4 unisex scents) with titles like Maharishi, Bohemian Wedding, Wild Thing, Marrakech and Woodstock, the $65 vials are a heady blast from the past that my generation never got to experience.

Applying Bliss, my Rich Hippie scent of choice (which are rolled on, not spritzed), onto a wrist or behind an ear is a quick thrill, a musky post-shower reminder of all things naughty and forbidden. I'm not saying Rich Hippie is sex in a bottle, but there is something dirty about all the scents. Even though Bliss is one of the milder, sweeter perfumes, it still contains outdoorsy notes of dirt, hay, flowers and joints.

If you don't have the $65 to spare, but want to bring out your inner hippie, try the $15-20 sample bottles offered online.

Review: Playing with the Grown-Ups by Sophie Dahl

By the granddaughter of literary legend Roald Dahl, Playing with the Grown-Ups is precisely my idea of beach reading (something I've been doing a lot of). While I devoured the not very challenging 270 pages in 24 hours, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

While the novel has been critiqued for its heavy dependency on Sophie Dahl's own life as a model (it's about a Scandinavian family of tow-headed beauties), and while I would not hail this book as an intellectual triumph, it is a smart, well-written collection of lovely words and descriptions that comes together altogether quite nicely.

Our heroine is Kitty, illegitimate but ferociously loved daughter of Marina, a gorgeous blonde with artistic fancies and chemical imbalances. Marina has two younger sisters in their twenties (when the story begins), Elsie and Ingrid, and two very likable parents (a lovably gruff, cussing father and gentle, sweet and domestic mother).

The story centers on Kitty's perception of Marina and her difficulty finding a steady foothold in the world as a result of her bohemian mother and being at the mercy of her life choices (separating Kitty from her younger siblings and sending her to boarding school in London, abruptly pulling her out and moving her to New York, moving the entire family to an ashram in North Carolina, only to uproot them back to London later).

What I loved about the novel was my ability to be transported away from my life and into Kitty and Marina's shimmering, lush, wild and unkempt world. By the end, or even at the start, the reader has no illusions; Marina's beauty and charisma clearly is not enough to keep her family together and afloat forever. But Dahl, via Kitty, shows us through her eyes what allowed Kitty to believe in that possibility for as long as she does, and why, towards the end of the novel, she has to let go.

If you're looking for a quick but enchanting read, this one's for you. It's the equivalent (not in time, but in brain power and emotional investment) of two or three whimsical, offbeat, but beautifully filmed and well-acted movies.

Review: The Naked Oyster

Parallel to the Independence Highway in Hyannis, Massachusetts, set in an unlikely concrete strip mall (next to Sprint Wireless), you'll find The Naked Oyster Bistro and Bar, a surprisingly delightful little gem of a seafood restaurant.

Inside, the Naked Oyster's polished, sparse but chic interiors are the perfect foil for a long, salty and sun-soaked day at the beach. Who doesn't love washing the sand and sea off at 5 o'clock, cracking a Stella Artois or Blue Moon, and enjoying clean clothes, the sunset and a good meal? That's what summer vacations are all about, after all.

Anyway, my family ordered a veritable banquet of a meal, so I had the opportunity to sample a variety of the restaurant's offerings. To start, I ordered a glass of Brut Cava and Oysters Rockefeller (oysters with butter, spinach and seasoning, baked on the half shell), which were aromatic and delicious. My brother Lucas had french onion soup and was absolutely enraptured by it; so much so that the rest of our vacation was spent ordering and comparing other onion soups (none of which lived up to the Naked Oyster's). The rest of the table had standard raw oysters, which were also heavenly.

Without going into the blissful dessert experience (bread pudding, blackberry cobbler and a cheese platter), The Naked Oyster is absolutely worth the expense if you're on vacation on Cape Cod, and in the market for an indulgence of a meal.