"You're pretty, smart, and got your sh*t together. So...why are you still single?"

A few months ago, after the dust settled on some major life changes, I decided to re-enter the dating game. I admit, I was seriously out of practice. It had been over fours years since I'd been on the market, for one reason or another. In late 2008, I'd ended a 2 ½ year involvement, and soon after I decided to remain employed by accepting a relocated position in NYC. It was the perfect time to be single and focus on my balance. Since I know that good things hardly ever just show up at our doors knocking, I promised myself that when I got settled in NYC, I'd make an effort to meet new fellas, and hopefully, find real love.

With consideration of my lifestyle and professional routine, online dating seemed a great option. So, I cast my line by joining a few sites, and waited to see who'd bite. Things were sluggish at first, but by October I was getting some action. As I was getting acquainted with a handful new men, a question arised from many of them: you're pretty, and smart, and really nice, so why are you still single? Underneath the question, I could hear their implication, "What's wrong with you?" It had become clear to me that to be female, forty, childless, and never married placed a shadow on me in the eyes of others.

The question began to ricochet in my mind like a stray bullet. And stray bullets are dangerous. After some self-deliberation, I caught that bullet in my teeth like Bruce Leroy, and an answer emerged: there's nothing wrong with me, I'm fine. I can be a bit neurotic and insecure; as much as some and less than many, but nothing so far south as to be in Crazy County. I'm where I am by design, not by default. I can say with certainty, that in my lifetime, I've had two opportunities to be married, if being married was my primary goal. But it wasn't and still isn't. Sure, I sometimes entertain the day dream of an occasion when, wearing a butter colored dress, I'll stand with my beloved to legalize our love before an audience of family and friends, then gorge ourselves on catered food and drink. Hey, I'm a girl, remember. And it's not lost on me that a generation ago, I’d be considered a spinster, and the married neighbor ladies would eye me with suspicion as they whispered "what a pity".

Time brings changes, and women of my generation have opportunities that our grannies couldn't have dreamed up. I have a career that has exceeded my expectations, taking me around the world, exposing me to the likes of the Obama family and a collection of admired celebrities. And though there's no pitter-patter of tiny feet in my home, I can sleep in on off days, unfettered by nightmares of daycare expenses. Along with more options, have come more costs, but waiting longer for love is a price I'm happy to pay. Whoever gets me now, gets a woman at her prime, fully formed and self-aware. What's always been important to me is having an intimate, loving friendship that is worthy of marriage. Plain and simple, my time hasn't come yet, and I haven't settled. And I'm proud of that.

So to all my compadres, male and female, who are of "a certain age" and find yourselves traveling through life unmarried and childless, rejoice! The road less traveled has some unique attractions and fewer traffic jams.

Notes On A Cocktail Or Put Down That Liquid Nonsense And Pick Up A REAL Drink, For Chrissakes!

What's playing:

Love’s Right Here…Black Spade

Hot Fun In The Summertime…Sly & The Family Stone

Bring Back The Love…Bebel Gilberto

Entre Chien Et Loup…Caural

Clean Living…RJD2

You Make Me Feel...Gusgus

Tell Her Love Felt The Need…Eddie Kendricks

The current economic wet blanket has spurred a curious upshot: a renewed appreciation of the classics. Pick a genre, any genre—fashion, movies, literature—and there’s a sort of “looking back” that’s prevalent. My recent chat with a top-notch mixologist confirmed that the realm of cocktails is no exception. Tough times call for spirited (pun intended) drinkable classics. Be it a drink, a film, or a pair of platform pumps, there’s something reassuring about things that have stood the test of time.

Though much has been written, the cocktail’s history and etymology remain murky. The lack of cold hard facts and dates make for an excellent mystery, and mysteries make great topics of debate. And debates are great while imbibing. One of the earliest recorded mentions is from the Farmer’s Cabinet of 1803. Though context made it clear that a cocktail was a beverage, not much else was revealed, until this was printed three years later in The Balance and Columbian Repository: "Cock tail, then, is a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters—it is vulgarly called a bittered sling…it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time it fuddles the head." The similarity of ingredients could lead one the suspect that this vintage cocktail was the precursor of The Old Fashioned. And who can’t use a “stout” heart from time to time?

Enter the Martini. It’s origins steeped in myth and legend, this century-old refresher evolved into a dry, slightly salty delight. I’ve had apple martinis, chocolate martinis, tea martinis, fruity martinis, you name it, but none compares to the Zen-like perfection of the original. And make mine extra dirty. With the help of Ian Fleming’s James Bond stories, the ‘tini has become a sort of archetypal cocktail. Why did James, like his creator, prefer “shaken, not stirred”? Perhaps, he liked how shaking “bruised” the gin, and made the drink colder and slightly more bitter. How fitting, Mr. Bond.

There’s nothing better than a dose of repression to bring out the devil in us. The Prohibition Act of 1919 made alcohol manufacture, sales, and consumption illegal across the nation. Though it’s pietistic supporters wanted to “dry out” the country, their efforts did more for the popularity of cocktails than any modern Madison Avenue ad campaign could hope to. As with any forbidden delight, an underground market emerged, filled with bootleggers, speakeasies, and rotgut hooch. Hooch (slang for cheaply made, inferior quality spirits) could be so unpleasant that creative mixes were concocted to hide its taste. When President Roosevelt lifted the ban on spirits in 1933, avenues opened for better variety and quality. But to this day, there are still towns and counties with prohibitive liquor laws.

If you’re looking for some new-old refreshments to bring in the new year, try one of these masterpieces:

The Old Fashioned: quite possibly the original cocktail, it never gets old and is never out of fashion.

The Manhattan: named for its birthplace. Traditionalists prefer rye whiskey, modernists prefer Canadian whiskey.

Tom Collins: immortalized in the late 1800s by Jerry Thomas. Try cousins John or Juan.

Sidecar: emerged at the close of World War I, robust and very French.

Deauville: born in New Orleans in the 1930s, a sweet-sour brandy bracer.

Pimm’s Cup: a U.K. favorite that’s crisp and clean, but don’t let the freshness slip up on you!

Life is a lot like a good cocktail: a bit sweet, a tinge dry, sometimes bubbly, always interesting, sometimes knocking you on your ass. May your holiday season (raises Pimm’s Cup in a toast) be agreeably mischievous. Here’s to you!

Yours in spirits,

Ella de la Luna

What Is Cool?

What is Cool really?

It’s been years since my Uncle Harold died. In fact, it seems like another lifetime since then. I was just a kid when bone cancer claimed his life. My brother, a close cousin, and I still reminisce about the things Uncle Harold would say and do. If you ask anyone who knew him to describe his ways, the word “cool” would definitely be uttered.

What is Coolness? Everyone seems to recognize it, but what’s at its core? We toss the term around so loosely, at times it's hard to define. Growing up with a close relative like Uncle Harold, my exposure to Cool came early in life. Most would agree that cool starts with a state of mind. It’s unfussy, non-plussed, and unpretentious. One way NOT to be cool is to try. Uncle Harold spoke up; if he had an opinion, he put it forth. If he had nothing vital to add to a conversation, he observed, never displaying any self-inflicted pressure to have the last word. He was succinct with his words and efficient in his delivery. No one I’ve met since has made curse words sound as sweet. He had a cool walk, which we kids were surprised to learn was the result of a leg injury (ha!). He had his own style. He rarely left home without donning his favorite topper, a Greek fisherman’s hat, which he rocked half-cocked to the side—the right side, in fact! C'mon, what constituent of Cool wears their hats level? If personal style is one’s personality translated into clothing, then Uncle Harold’s inside and outside were in sync. One look at him, and you knew he was a likable cat, but not one whose path you should cross with any bullsh*$%. He was unapologetically himself, even when it pissed off others. Yet, he was no bully or emotional brute. He was, and remains, my favorite uncle because you always knew where you stood with him. You knew he loved you. He rarely said it, but you undoubtedly felt it.

So in honor of my late Uncle Harold, here is the recipe for Cool that he’s inspired:

As much self-acceptance as you can muster, then muster even more

2 cups Loyaltly

3 jiggers Don’t Tread On Me

½ tbsp F*#@ the Bullsh*%

5lb bag of Love For Family

1 cup Forthrightness

2 heaping tbsp Sincerity

1 cup Generosity

½ cup Funny As Hell

Optional: A Good Topper and a Slight Limp

Combine all ingredients, then enjoy.

Ella de la Luna,

CEO of Mischief

What’s Playing Now:

Billie Holiday……....You Better Go Now

Prince………………...I Feel For You

Don-E……………...…Let Me Be Yours

De La Soul……..……Declaration

Georg Leven………..I Got Somebody New

Feist………………...…Past In Present

Public Enemy..........You're Gonna Get Yours

Beastie Boys………..Triple Trouble

Foreign Exchange...Sincere

Forgive me, Bilal, for I have bootlegged...

boot·leg (noun):
1. the part of a boot that covers the leg.
2. something, as a recording, made, reproduced, or sold illegally or without authorization
Etymology: in allusion to concealing objects in the leg of a high boot

A while back I accepted something that grates on my principles. Many of my close friends know that I have strong feelings against copping bootleg anything, especially music. I believe that if you like what an artist is doing, then show your love by making a legitimate purchase. No one wants to toil without compensation, right? And artists gotta eat, too. Well, this guy I was dating gave me a copy of Bilal's unreleased album, Love For Sale. And when I say that it's the hottest ish I've heard in longer than a minute, you best believe it. Bilal's vocals are kaleidoscopic and the production is simple and Zen in all the best ways. I know these pesky leaks can do an artist harm, and rest assured I haven't shared the album with anyone. I believe that the project should have been released despite the leakage, with a few unexposed songs added. Were it to ever launch, I would gladly PURCHASE two copies, one for me and one for my principles. Or maybe three copies, so I could tithe one to a good friend. I'm sure that would alleviate any negative bootleg karma, right?

Best regards,
Ella de la Luna
CEO of Mischief

This autumn, I've been promoted to CEO of Mischief...ha ha haaaaaa!

It's been waaay too long since my last post. In short, life has been beautiful--not always pretty, but certainly always bee-yoo-tee-full. Major developments: 1. back to singledom since 10/2008 2. relocating to NYC in the spring 2010 3. growing hair and shrinking body.

As I write, these songs are playing:

Bada Bing........Dangerdoom

All That You Give........The Cinematic Orchestra feat. Fontella Bass

I've Seen Rivers........Nicolay & Kay

David.......Gusgus

Recently, I took on the role of secret admirer. It's awesome, especially for a romantic like me. While I don't expect the object of my crush to respond--or give a damn, for that matter--it's nice making someone feel special from afar. Anonymity can make a person very ballsy, huh? Anyway, there's a fine line to be walked when being an anonymous admirer. You don't want to creep out the recipient, so take a good deal of care crafting your messages. Don't be overtly sexy or mushy, but DO share what you feel makes him/her special. Keep the messages concise (brevity IS the soul of wit). Share your taste in tunes. Most earthlings love music. And the songs you share don't have to deliberately illustrate the story of your feelings about him/her (need I say cheesy?). They can simply give the object of your attention some insight into what you like in your headphones. And that can be subtly revealing. At some point, consider doing a reveal. It can be done at once, or in steps. You may decide to skip a reveal altogether. Lastly, if you do go ahead and expose yourself, make certain to completely rid yourself of any expectations that your crush will reciprocate interest. Rejection's a bitch on wheels. Instead, delight in having (hopefully) made someone feel amazing.

Signing off,

EdlL