From Sandra Rose:
One of my readers just sent this to me. It is a post on NY magazine's website that treats Donda West's untimely death as some kind of joke. The headline reads "Kanye West's Mom Goes Out Olivia Goldsmith Style". For those of you who are unfamiliar, Olivia Goldsmith was a bestselling author who died during a cosmetic procedure as a result of an adverse reaction to anesthesia. She was 54.
Because, as Rose puts it, "I see nothing funny about any woman's death." Apparently, readers agreed. The NY Mag headline has been changed to the far more neutral: "Kanye West's Mom Dies During Cosmetic Procedure."
From our mailbag: "In my Media Studies class [at NYU] this morning, the professor asked, "How many of you know who Matt Drudge is?" Total silence. Then he asked, "How many of you DON'T know who Matt Drudge is?" Practically every hand in the 300-person class shot up. So it looks like NYU students don't read The Drudge Report, or New York
Magazine."
Take that, Serena Torrey.
Two weeks ago, we patted ourselves on the back for making it through yet another grueling Fashion Week, and swore we'd never, ever go to another pretentious clusterfuck where people are only there to be "seen" and everyone has that glassy-eyed "I'm looking for someone more important to talk to" stare.* Unfortunately, that's pretty much exactly how we would describe last night's New York magazine's Look Book party.
The shindig (thrown on the fifth floor of Bergdorf Goodman's) featured an open bar, miniature black-and-white cookies and the worst hair we've seen since 1985. Although the invitation specifically said that an RSVP was required, some people came that, like, did not RSVP. Fortunately for those people, there weren't any bitchy-looking girls with clipboards or refrigerator-sized bouncers, so the "exclusive" event quickly devolved into a bacchanalian free-for-all.**
Hey, remember that little Lance Bass/NY Mag story we told you about earlier? Specifically, the part where Bass (who sometimes dresses up in acid washed man-overalls) describes floral-print sofas as "tacky," and then goes on to complain that Justin Timberlake's NYC restaurant is too far uptown, sniping "The Upper East side? I'm not in college anymore."
Well, apparently Bass has decided to do the only thing befitting of a disgruntled former boy-bander: Overreact big-time, claim this was all part of some crazy New York Magazine conspiracy and then write babyish comments about spunky reporter Jada Yuan on his MySpace page.
Not surprisingly, NY Mag has decided to stand by its story. As such, they've posted a response to Bass' ramblings that both defends Yuan's honor and simultaneously impedes Bass' credibility as a dancer.
Meanwhile, we're still amused by Bass' claim that the UES reminds him of being back in college. Particularly since a quick glance at his Wikipedia entry shows that he never actually made it past high school.
Even without a face to face interview, New York Magazine still manages to profile internet ace Matt Drudge this week with a very familiar lede.
In lieu of speaking with him, Philip Weiss talks to everyone surrounding him, learning Drudge began to lose his hair in high school, used to deliver the Washington Star and that back then, he was the one who was had trouble reaching people. When he was 15, he was arrested for making “annoying phone calls to a girl.”
Since then, Drudge has been on the straight shot to sanity.
Earlier this morning, we flipped through the latest issue of New York magazine and paused, with fleeting interest, at a wordy "Where are they now?" type profile on fashion has-been/never-was Jay McCarroll, and his marginally more successful Project Runway compatriots. In the piece, Jay, the overweight, tinny-voiced season-one winner, claims to be homeless, unemployed and sleeping in his studio, which is to say he turned out pretty much exactly as we would have expected.
But wait!
An angry tipster (who also appears to be suspiciously like Jay's best friend-slash-Number One fan-slash-publicist) suggests that we've all been the victim of a bizarre and rather unfunny prank perpetrated by one semi-employed Jay McCarroll.
New York associate editor Ben Wasserstein, obviously not given his job because dad Bruce owns the magazine, is taking off for The New Republic, where he'll be online editor. Finally, he and Jesse Oxfeld will have something to talk about.
(Meanwhile, New Republic's Ryan Lizza is leaving for The New Yorker, where he'll be a Washington correspondent. Exciting stuff, indeed.)
At left, the New York Times' treatment of Holly Peterson's new book The Manny. At right, New York's treatment. For some reason, we just figured Adam Moss' version would be the one to involve a shirtless hottie being rubbed down.
From John Cook's hatchet job in Radar hatchet job (discussed here) on Adam Moss' New York magazine, an explanation from writer John Cook:
(Full disclosure: I once met with Moss to discuss potential employment at New York, I've pitched its editors and been rejected, the editor in chief of Radar used to work there, and my wife has written in its pages.)
That doesn't reek of "an agenda," does it?
Last week, Adam Moss' New York Magazine shut out the New Yorker at the NMA's, taking home five awards, and shocking each/all of the 25 people who actually care about such things. But now, Radar has thrown down the gauntlet, characterizing NY Mag as a technically superb, conceptually refined, beautifully presented piece of crap.
And while some are already commending Radar on a critique well done, we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because, despite purportedly being an empty shell of an elitist rag, New York just doesn't seem the type to take this criticism sitting down.
Bending over, maybe, but definitely not sitting down.
You're going to hear a lot about the Ellies for the next 24 hours, perhaps even 48, until the floodgates break open about whether NBC renews Scrubs.
So let's just get through the talking points you'll need to know this week as we sum up yesterday evening's event at Lincoln Center.
CONTINUED »
That "complexity of the laws governing corporate benefits and the difficulty of complying with changing domestic partnership regulations" must've finally been resolved, because New York magazine is now offering its fagala employees health benefits for their partners. And they didn't even have to run off to New Jersey for a walk down the aisle, can you believe? The new rules take effect May 1, which seems a long time coming given that EIC Adam Moss is, well, of the light loafers variety. It'll also be welcome news for online editor Jesse Oxfeld, whose lobbying for health insurance at Gawker Media arrived just before he was shown the door.
So, about Observer quitter and Times shunee Rebecca Dana being hunted by New York magazine? One source tells us Dana would be surprised to learn that news as much as EIC Adam Moss, since the two parties haven't had a chat of substance. The twosome "haven't talked," says our insider. But meanwhile, another well-placed tattler points out the smoke and mirrors: "She's talking to everyone, including New York. But it wouldn't surprise me if she didn't take that job either, since just like at the Times [where she'd be working under Bill Carter], she'd still have a Kurt Andersen figure looming large, cherry picking all the good stories."
Which, we guess, leaves her back where she started.
Those well-intentioned souls over at New York magazine have created a helpful guide to help you plan ahead for New Year's Eve in Times Square. However, in their haste to spread the word, we're afraid they may have accidentally omitted a pointer or two, thereby neglecting to include some potentially relevant info.
So, in the interest of avoiding any potential confusion down the line, we humbly submit these excerpts from the NY Mag guide, along with our (minor) edits and addendums.
They say: "Chairs, tents, and space heaters are not allowed, so dress warm and wear comfortable shoes.
We say: Ditch the Uggs, and bring on the whiskey. Nothing puts a little warmth in your belly like a flask chock full of Jack Daniel's. Drink enough, and the overweight Japanese tourist with the fanny-pack will start looking pre-tty darn good around midnight.
They say: "There will be no food vendors in the pens, but some restaurants will deliver to you on the street, including Ray’s Original Pizza (212-974-9381) and Sbarro (212-768-4194)."
We say: Who can think about pizza when you're smack in the middle of call-girl central? As much as we dig having the "411" on the local burrito joint, how about giving us something we can actually use, like, say, the digits for a medium to high-end escort service?
They say: "Some people line up a day ahead, but there's no reason to show up much before 4:30 p.m."
We say: 4:30 p.m. and you've got nothing better to do than stand on a street corner in Times Square? Who are you, our mom? Seriously, there are plenty of decent bars to hit, and you owe it to yourself to drink yourself into a complete stupor. Only then can you can fully appreciate the splendor, (nay, the thrill!) of a gigantic spherical apparatus, dropping at the speed of molasses.
They say: "All bags will be searched for alcohol and weapons, and anything found will be confiscated."
We say: If you get into any trouble, just break into a fake epileptic seizure and blame it on the neon lights. (It always works for us).
Now get out there, you crazy kids, and go find someone to make out with smack in the middle of a freezing, drunken mob!
• Blame Michael Richards. Niggaspace relaunching as Holla.Us.
• New York helps close out the year not with yet another gift list (they already did that, silly!) but with the ULTIMATE APPROVAL MATRIX!!
• Nerve.com's Babble will be like Cookie, only written by more pretentious self-referencers.
• Newsday staffers egg on Tribune Co. fall out.
• Lots of words dedicated to Louise MacBain. We prefer pretty pictures.
Editorial Director
