Daily Cookie

Adaptable Diva

Yesterday two very different people told me that I was adaptable.  I say they are very different mainly because one is a boy and the other a girl, but both their respective male and female perspectives managed to comment on my adaptability.  I just had to smile.

 

The first comment came at lunch.  I had just finished a production and press walk thru on 50^th Street and had about 45 minutes to grab lunch with another client to review a proposal we are drafting together to pitch a certain singer who recently rocked Fashion Rocks with Mary J. Blige (this in my opinion was the best act of the night). 

Anyhow, I arrived a few minutes late and had to pee (lots of coffee and water that morning on the train).  We didn’t have a lot of time so I just asked him to order for me.  Our food arrived and it was just okay.  I said it was fine and that’s when he commented on my adaptability.  Not in those exact words, but that was the jist.  He actually said he would have never believed that I was the type of girl who he thought enjoyed fine food and wine but could also probably have a great time drinking beer in some dark dive bar with no widows.  Um excuse me, do I look like the dive bar type?  And especially not yesterday – I was rocking new wide leg jeans, a Marni cami, vest and Dries Van Noten cashmere cardigan.  Oh and my gold Prada wedges.  Think before you speak Cooks he is a client.  And he only being nice and implying that I didn’t like what he ordered, but did not complain.  He is lucky he is the client.  My poor husband would have had an earful. 

I smiled and then had to tell him (very politely) that first of all I don’t drink beer, and second, I truly despise dark dive bars with no windows.  The idea of them scares me mainly because I can’t stand the stench of stale beer and smoke, the stickiness of the floor and the trapped feeling that comes over me when there is only one exit and no windows.  My claustrophobia has gotten worse as I get older. But as you can learn from my above description I have visited a few dive bars in my day.  I lived across the street from Mary Ann’s my senior year at Boston College. . .enough said.  I explained all of this to him too.  More info than he bargained for I am sure.  But he laughed and I did too.  So glad the girlie girl in me is in tact. And he now believes that I am adaptable by choice. 

The second comment came last night from a dear friend of mine.  We have not seen each other in a while and I was determined to see her.  I was also determined to see another super friend of mine, my stylist.  I stayed in the city last night just to see him.  I have been calling him now for days – actually since I wrote my last blog complaining about the fact that I needed a haircut desperately.  I am a girl of my word.  Sure enough my schedule this week was all based around my hair and I was not going to quit or go home until I got my appointment.     I called Dominick for days on his cell.  If I couldn’t get him I would text.  I also tried calling the salon a number of times but their phones do not work.  Instant frustration.  And for Christ sake what capable salon can function without a phone?  I was beside myself.  Turns out he was stuck in California and in a plane from 6AM – 8PM.  When he finally got cell service back, he returned to about 10 crazy messages from me (not including the texts) and also some from his salon.  Managed to finally get through and was told he has no time for you.  I lost it on them both.  And then there are the times that diva in me roars its pretty, but in dire need of a shaping, head.

“Honey I have been away and now I am doing the shows, just come in after 6 and I will squeeze you in.  I always do.”  This was the message that changed my attitude.  It is Fashion Week and he is in demand.  Yet still will make time for me. 

He sang this next one.  “Sweets I am running about 20, well maybe 40 minutes late.  Okay, don’t call the salon the phones don’t work.  Oh and I left my cell at home. Okay can’t wait to see you.  Love ya.” This was the message I heard in a taxi on my way to my appointment.  I have been waiting 11 weeks to get my haircut, what is 40 minutes more.  Plus I am downtown and the shops are still open.  I did what any girl would do, I went shopping.  And may I add, I scored! 

Sarah met me at the salon and we went to dinner at Paradou.  It’s a sweet wine bar and bistro in the area that is very yum and attracts some hipsters, but not as crowded as some of the other hot spots.  It was the perfect atmosphere to catch up with a friend and show off a great cut.  We talked about boys, clothes, work and hair.  She too now goes to Dominick and appreciated my story.  She made her adaptability comment to me when I showed her my treasures I found on my “suddenly I have some time on my hands spur of the moment shopping spree.”

To her, I am now known as an “adaptable diva.” I like this name and I love my haircut.  On my way home now to sport my new do.

   

   

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