Philadelphia
Sunday, June 19th, 2011
Oh this is completely off topic – except that there is no possible way to understand me and thus all that is now Forty Weeks without first imagining me in my yellow bedroom on Frobel Road in Laverock, Pennsylvania completely lost in my Bruce albums. I got a brand new stereo for my Bat Mitzvah (thank you Uncle Herb) and I can still see myself there, in that end bedroom (when not spending countless hours on my “private” line 232-5332) listening to Bruce albums. The River had just been released and it seemed so had some powerful passion inside of me. I still cry when I hear certain versions of The River. It was bigger than any emotion I had experienced and the notion of being de-flowered of my emotional innocence still rattles me a bit. Loss? Hopelessness? Despair? Disappointment? The street? All this was new to the newly minted teenager in Philadelphia.
I went journeying backwards through the Bruce catalog and spent my days making sense of the world through his poetic lens. There is none of that without Clarence Clemons. There was something about the way he blew that sax that drew me in and never released me . It was not just the melancholy it was also the party that he brought to the table. And the best part – back then, was the live shows and the amazing camaraderie between Bruce and Clarence. That is how I wanted my work to feel (and it does, btw) – connected to and surrounded by people who love what they do as much as I and frankly who feel it…big, juicy and real. This was a relationship that moved and motivated me to find and surround myself with my own - loving, like-minded, and spirited, The friendship, care and respect is so evident in these images:
And so last night, in the wee hours (I really could not sleep) I wrote my goodbye to the Big Man. And so with love and sadness, goodbye Clarence, goodbye and thank you.
It is a sad, somber day on E Street. Saying goodbye to one of the most talented, charismatic and soulful spirits – what a gift you were! Clarence has been the omnipresent musical force that has elevated, emoted and engaged both on stage and off. There is no soundtrack of my life without his sax, and for that I am grateful. RIP to the Big Man…oh how you will be missed.
Posted in Philadelphia, Uncategorized, ot, personal | No Comments »
Sunday, April 10th, 2011
Here is the story of why you must read the entire New York Times on a Sunday in order to parent well (or at least know the facts). So kids, please back off I am busy here – sipping coffee and figuring this out:
Once upon a time in the land of the Gray Lady was a Front Page cover all about drug addiction and pregnancy. It said that you are too high to be pregnant (especially in Maine):
Newly Born, and Withdrawing From Painkillers
Deeper in the paper, there was a cover (though below the fold) of the Styles Section – it said that MTV was one giant warm, fuzzy educator in a glammed up, air brushed and glossy disguise. This piece said, you are too young to be pregnant:
Fighting Teenage Pregnancy With MTV Stars as Exhibit A
But then, and finally on a left-hand page, well in the Styles section, we find the happy ending to our tale. With the sound of birds chirping in the background, this piece shares what the Times readers knew all along (about themselves anyway as this is the demo, no?) – wait long enough and you will be a happy, joyous parent. Here Pamela Paul (full disclosure I adore Pamela) shares research that concludes older parents are happier than younger parents: Older Parents Find More Joy in their Bundles
And so you see, once again a flurry of bloggy, boisterous backlash is born – welcome to Sunday….
Tags: parenting media
Posted in Uncategorized, publishing | No Comments »
Tuesday, March 29th, 2011
As my kinder, friends, office-mates and beloved Bob will tell you I don’t eat potato chips (ok, I do eat Popchips – they are quite good). I don’t even keep chips in the house. My children will tell you this just adds to my status as “Meanest Mom Ever”. Yet, there is something magical, even transformative that happens to this Philly ex-pat when I drive by Taylor Gourmet in Bethesda, Maryland in the wee hours and see this…
Posted in Philadelphia, ot | 1 Comment »
Saturday, March 12th, 2011
I hit the jackpot when it comes to genes. Born into a long line of innovators, risk-takers and highly creative and motivated souls, I came out pitching new business ideas and sparking from day one. And thanks to the patience and humor of my mother I was active – marking most of our personal belongings for sale (loved those little stickers!!!) and launching new concepts from the age of five! How about that?!?. Curious about who was on the leading edge of selling water – look no further, it was me circa 1974 (truth be told, Joanne shut me down, as it was unseemly to sell water – but I compromised and agreed to sell it for free). But really, it was not just the nature it was also the nurture that propelled me on my way.
I worked. And I worked and I worked some more. But first I watched. My early working memories are Saturday mornings at my Father’s office. A space so magical words could not do justice to the whole of it. The warehouse filled with SKUs, a certain smell of boxes and fabric ink, a man named Jackson who was in charge of that giant space and rode me around on his lift – pure power! And what of the copy machine, cubicles, order entry stamps, dusty floor, and of course, the soda machine (bottles, I kid you not)? It was the stuff that my dreams were made of.
And then there was my Mommom’s office (that would be N. Leah Lipson to you) – there she sat – smoking her Parliaments, holding court and signing checks – she was Auntie Mame in the corner office – oh what energy she had! And there too I soaked it in and tucked away the way in which she spoke to her staff, the way in which they responded to her and the spell she cast.
There was also the Magazine. I certainly remember the grandeur of those offices at 1500 Walnut– complete 70s chic, Hermes scarves framed on the walls and stylish young people everywhere. I remember the publishing side as chic. My Uncle Herb’s office and the omni-present Irene were the inner-sanctum. I found myself there a lot over the years. The editing side was a place of constant motion – and those who worked on that side were so vibrant. I recall rubber cement – because it was “way back when” and my cousin Sherry (who to this day is one of my greatest de facto mentors) was in the business of cut and paste – old school. WOW – that was power – she laid out the magazine – decided the who and the what and the where – and it was nothing short of mind blowing to me.
And that was all mine….incredible really!
So on mornings like this, I am thinking about the good luck and feeling nothing but gratitude not only for the genes but also for the constant exposure to the possibilities. How I would use my talents was and still is completely up to me. As I get ready to host a round table next week for the JPMA (yes that is what I am meant to be working on right now) I am imagining the roundtable of my life – these influential people who loved and encouraged me though both word and example. And feeling the echoes of their love and support as continue on my way…
Posted in Philadelphia, personal, publishing | 1 Comment »
Sunday, July 25th, 2010
I am the direct descendant of a Mad Man; Mad Men, actually. I spent my childhood surrounded by all the trappings of that most remarkable heyday – or really the remains of the day. The family continues to thrive in the post-mad men, super-digital, Wild West era. My grandfather’s raging creativity and risk taking in the late 1940s and 1950s set the stage for generations of us making a living in the luckiest and sometimes riskiest of ways – surrounded by remarkable people who, like us fed on good ideas and were always on the hunt and at the ready for the next thing. We were blessed with an amazing history, back-story and powerful genes. And the lot of us have all found our way into the most remarkable places. Mine is here at the helm of Forty Weeks. I’d like to think that my unearthing and nurturing of a new niche would be just the thing that would float my Grandfather’s boat – and I am sure he would be proud.
Watching Mad Men, for me has been strangely bittersweet. On one hand, it feels familiar and inviting. I am captivated as the faded family photographs come to life. And why not? I have paid close attention to and savored this new glimpse into the era (I feel like my little kid self – looking down the stairs from the second floor landing) – the design, the music and the mood of the day are all a treat for the senses. The clothes, the cars the parties are all so familiar. Even the office furniture rings real. There are the offices, the homes and the clubs (and if you are wondering about those clubs and other institutions of the day, we were terribly assimilated and that is how that worked). It is a time I had glamorized in my mind. There is little doubt that I have let the cream rise to the top and had all but ignored what I must have already known. The rise of advertising, and the culture that it propagated was a white boys club. This was the cultural norm, this was everywhere and this was the social standard. And is our collective history – not just mine but ours. And while I knew (yes I had information about where women and minorities did and did not fit in) I know it never really connected it to my personal history. And certainly, I never really allowed it to permeate my view of the day.
Along comes Mad Men. And with the new, rekindled romance of the times comes a new found take on the reality of so much of what was wrong about it. Mad Men has forced me to reconsider the role of women in my family and in our business. And to, finally process the whole of it – not just the sweet and shiny parts. And so, I will do just that. Somehow, come to terms with the glory and the shame of this era, my personal history and then tuck them away somewhere safe. Mainly because I have miles to go before I sleep and the legacy of all who came before me urging me on to the next creative challenge…not to make it right but simply because I can.
Posted in Philadelphia, ot, personal, publishing | No Comments »
Sunday, December 6th, 2009
Long ago and far away (is the constant presence of this nostalgic preface in my writing a sign that I am tipping over into the next phase of life? I certainly hope not) – Sundays were about calling home. Long distance rates were lowest on Sunday – and in particular on Sunday night. And back in the day (there I go again) we would all commit a part of our Sunday to calling our parents and grandparents. As I got older, and the telecom business and rate structure in the US changed (feel free to ask Bob, he can expand on this one) this all disappeared into a fuzzy memory.
But still, on Sunday morning I wake up ready to take on the New York Times, the Washington Post, a big cup of coffee and make my family calls (we were a little more well off than others, it was okay to call on Sunday AM – oohh – fancy). And even this morning, though many years have passed and my house is full of children (mine!) in varying degrees of sleep, I have this undeniable urge to pick up the phone (the one no longer connected to the wall) and dial CE2-7479. This was my grandmothers’ phone number – Mommom’s exchange was ”CC” which stood for ”Center City” in Philadelphia where she was the reigning and undisputed queen of the Philadelphian, the very stately apartment complex where she lived in apartment t 14-C-42 with breathtaking views of the Parkway, Museum and the city. I pass this building every week on the train en route to NYC. I want to hear my Mommom’s voice as she listens intently and responds to my excited tales of life as me (nothing changes) with her own unique brand of sage sound bites, well-earned from having lived through one of the most reliably fluctuating, advancing and startling centuries of history. And she did not just show-up – she lived. And set an incredibly high standard for what it meant to connect with others in this world, something I aspire to along with her unique brand of being a female company head (long lunches at Bookbinders on 15th street followed by check signing with scotch and her Parliaments come to mind) not to mention her sense of style (oh she had it!).
My grandmother died in 1998 (Thanksgiving – weekend, right after Lila was born). Born in 1908, she was one the truest characters I have ever known. My Mommom was flawed and fabulous all at once. And also, one of the biggest fans I would ever have. And I think often how she would react to this crazy new world, would she (as I suspect) reduce it all to the very basic precepts (Men can’t help themselves – um , Tiger Woods) or sing it in Cole Porter lyrics (When grandma whose age is eighty in night clubs is getting matey with gigolo’s – anything goes um, Cougars)? Would she stand behind my choices (I am sure of it) and laugh along with me though the long days here at Casa Loco (she would certainly enjoy my stories circa 2009 but she would not want to be part of the chaos)? Would she suggest I go see her “guy” for something (a piece of jewelry or an oil change – not matter what she had a guy)? Would she tell me to keep it up while at the same time telling me to do less (yes, likely)? She never saw me as a mother – or in a successful marriage. And really this is what I wish the most…that I could tell her how good and lucky my life is and how I wake up every day saying, in the words of Cole Porter “ It’s delightful, it’s delicious, it’s de-lovely” and in my words – this life of mine is good – beyond expectation, how I wish you were here to share it with me – I miss you…
Posted in Philadelphia, ot, personal | 3 Comments »
Monday, October 5th, 2009
I was not surprised by this morning’s news as The New York Times reported that in their post- McKinsey portfolio (oh, well that title is gone too, so maybe a bad world choice on my part), Conde Nast would be three titles short – Cookie, Gourmet and Modern Bride would close. And while it was clear to me that this was coming – I am not any less sad to see Cookie go. The fate of Cookie has been the all the buzz for months among those in the parenting category as well as the publishing community. Most of my publishing insider friends felt Cookie was essentially “dead man walking” and in the juvenile category we all hopped against hope that the magazine that made us sudden rock stars (our world has become super cool thanks to Pilar Guzman and her incredible editorial vision).
At ABC kids I spent a great deal of my time with publishers and group publishing heads discussing what many felt was already a fait accompli – the end of Cookie. Much of the conversation centered on their ad pages and their obvious failure to pull in revenue and meet projections especially within the category. And while I am always happy to discuss circulation and ad pages (I am an old magazine girl with publishing blood coursing through my veins) – what really strikes me is the rise and the fall of the Cookie brand. Because really – Cookie defined so much of the modern parent movement – and gave us all a stake in something well beyond our means.
Cookie, the bible of aspirational parenting (as I call it) – hit the scene in 2005. Ad pages were mostly filled with lifestyle ads well outside of the juvenile category. Fashion pages were the main “cross-over” (none of us ever believed these were more than bonus pages, no matter) and the book looked good. It was not honest (who lived like the moms in the pages of Cookie?), but it was fun! Cookie was high style and high imagination for main street parents. This beautifully presented insiders look at parenting on Melrose and Madison was in perfect synchronicity with America’s near obsession with celebrity pregnancy and baby. It gave readers access to a world well beyond their means, and before Cookie – outside of even their fantasy zone. It also paved the way for a new generation of luxury goods within the category and defined a new psychographic category of mom (a Cookie Mom was a spender, a trend-setter and a woman with a very clear aesthetic –not to mention a nanny and great shoes). Manufacturers who catered to this category were suddenly understood and adored. This tricked down in a very real economic way to Main Street Moms who made it their business not only to know what was happening on Melrose and Madison but also to have a little piece of it themselves. Cookie was all that was shiny and hip about parenting. It was bold and unapologetic – and now it is gone.
I want to consider what will come next. It is a conversation that is going to be had over and again and I will be a part of it. Only, not yet – not today. Today is a day to quietly consider the indelible mark Cookie left on the parenting category and hope that the death of Cookie is not the death of dreaming out loud within this category that I love so very much.
Goodbye Cookie – and especially to all of you with whom I have worked over the years – thank you for what you have shared with me of yourselves, your creativity and your contagious energy. I look forward to our paths crossing again very soon!
Tags: publishing
Posted in celebrity, marketing, publishing | 7 Comments »