21Tulips

What once was David Cooley’s mere West Hollywood coffee shop creation has grown into a restaurant/night spot that attracts a diverse and fabulous crowd.   It was one of Elizabeth Taylor’s favorite spots and was the site of her last public appearance before her death.  So when I say fabulous, I mean Fab-u-lous.

What makes The Abbey so special and David a genius is that it is the first gay establishment to appeal to the straight crowd.  And as diverse as the crowd, so is The Abbey itself.  Saturday night brings great dance music and go-go dancers, while Sunday is the time to have brunch and bloody marys on the outdoor patio.

This success caught the attention of SBE, who bought The Abbey and kept David on as the president.  I was lucky enough to snag an interview with David, a personal friend of the late dame Elizabeth Taylor.  She was a well known supportor of gay causes so it was natural  that she felt so comfortable here.

I enjoyed one of The Abbey’s signature martinis, the burning orange, until David arrived in his aviator sunglasses and fit as a Navy Seal.  He is known for his charitable work and support in the gay community.  The Abbey will be the site of the 11th annual APLA ocsar viewing party called “The Envelope Please” and he created “Christmas in September” to benefit children’s hospital just to name a few.

After a personal chat I was anxious to ask him a few questions.

D.D. As a boy from Ohio, who influenced you the most?

D.C. My Dad.  He was a very hard worker.  I watched how hard he worked.

D.D. Rumor has it that The Abbey may be coming to Chicago very soon.  Is that true?

D.C. We are looking to expand and we’re very close.

D.D. Who are the most famous people you’ve ever become friends with?

D.C. Elizabeth Taylor.  She had her last public appearance here before her death.  She gave me a picture of her to hang and wanted to know if I would call this “The Elizabeth Taylor Room” for “The Abbey, my favorite pub” as she called it.

D.D. What is your favorite thing about L.A.?

D.C. The Abbey and opportunity.

I was excited when I heard about SoulCycle spinning its way to West Hollywood from New York.  This innovative and chic concept is what has SoulCycle selling out classes in minutes.  Not to worry though, they offer them all day.

If you are an obsessed spinner (which I am not) or just have a “muffin top” you could do without (which I do), this is the place to ride.  Don’t let the bright crisp citrus infused entry fool you.  You are about to enter a dark, hip, candlelit vortex with a play list that could rival the best night clubs.

Once you are “clicked in”, hang on as the show begins.  My spinning instructor was part DJ, part dancer, and part Lance Armstrong.  I was sure there would be a chalk outline of me next to the bike by the end.  Luckily,  mercy is bestowed upon the novice and I could go at my own pace.

As the music pumped the energy was contagious, especially with the instructor getting off his bike to dance around and be in the moment.   Besides getting a great workout, I found some soul.

I’m not a raging liberal, believe me, but I never understood the problem with same sex marriage.  Maybe it’s my generation.  It seems that the resistance comes from a religious viewpoint, which is also the reason for most of the wars in this world.  It seems so funny to me that judgment and hate would have anything to do with religion.  When I hear the word “religion” I think of God and when I hear the word “God”, I think of love.  Why would we be against anyone loving each other?  Why do we declare war in the name of “God”?  We should say “I declare war in the name of hate!” and call it what it is.

Whether you hate someone or the idea of something, it is still your ego’s projected judgment or fear reacting.  People fear what they don’t understand and fear creates resistance.  We used to “fear” black people in this country not long ago.  So much so that we would not let them vote or sit near us on the bus.  It’s funny how they were allowed to fight and die for our country but still be denied their rights.  Isn’t that what we’re doing with gay marriage now in some way?  Instead of discriminating based on color we now use sex.  Same sex.  And that makes people uncomfortable based on their religious views.  Listen, I don’t want to anger anyone or have a biblical debate.  I just want to let people who want to love each other feel human and equal.

With time, comes evolution and whether you like it or not, this train is coming folks.  Once the priests and politicians get out of the way, it’s show time!  Wedding planners and divorce lawyers everywhere will rejoice.  You will see some pretty interesting and fabulous weddings my friends.

So let’s stop starving the gay community and………….Let Them Eat Cake!

The ever fab Kyle Richards and me (D.D.) during her book signing at Barnes & Noble at The Grove in Los Angeles.  Everyone wanted to know how she looked in person.  The answer: gorgeous.  She is nice too!

She dished on how she got a hold of her 35cm Hermes Berkin bag when I asked.  “Mexico City.  A friend of mine was on the list for two years and she got it for me.”  She easily confessed.   We talked about Decades, a high-end consignment haven for stylists as being a great option for snagging the elusive bag.

She was supported by Mauricio (of course) and her in-laws.  Kathy and Rick Hilton popped by, sans Paris.

No sign of Brandi, Adrienne or Kim.  Hmmm.  Lisa made a notably quick and aggitated appearance.  She put in her time and headed for the door calling for Ken who was enjoying the spotlight with Giggy (how do you spell that dog’s name?).

Camille stops to pose for the photographers.  She doesn’t need much encouragement and is gracious enough to show off her purple sky high heels that she thoughtfully matched to her coat.

She looked super skinny and super happy.  You go girl!

Camille and Taylor chat at Kyle’s book signing.  Do you think they’re talking about me?

I am sharing a moment with Ken and Giggy, who was dressed in a suit.  Just darling.  I was shocked and thrilled that ken approached me with the pooch.

Thank you Ken and Giggy.  You made my night!

O.K., this was fun.  The effervescent Dana Wilkey was beautifully clad in a chic black Herve Leger dress and sky high black studded Louboutins.

She excitedly came over to compliment my Goyard bag (she does know her things).

Three days later my husband and I ran into her at a Beverly Hills playground.  She remembered me from my bag!  She confided that she is removing herself from a twitter war she was currently having with Brandi who is saying mean things about her. Play nice Brandi.  Aren’t you busy getting an annulment?

But I digress.  Dana is a smart cookie and has personality for days.

Thanks for all the info on L.A. schools Dana.  Very helpful.  She would know about these things, her son speaks Thai!

With Lisa Vanderpump and Friends

In honor of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills premiere, I must post this pic of the ever fab, Lisa Vanderpump.  I was dining at her restaurant Villa Blanca in Bev. Hills when she appeared like something out of a gay man’s dream.   She was coiffed within an inch of her life and ready for her close-up.

Ken Paves, a.k.a., My Hair Fairy and me (with the roots) in L.A.

This pic was taken on Robertson Blvd. outside Ken’s magical salon.  He was just arriving in his black Ferrari.  Love the Ray-Bans Ken.

D.D. and Ken Paves on Robertson Blvd

Summer is a precarious time for most women.  Whether you are fit or not, you never think you look quite as good as you should in your bathing suit.  We have anxiety about trying on swimwear (are you with me ladies?).

Forget that you starved yourself with that juice “cleanse” and went to the gym five days a week  (okay four).  When you step into the unflattering vortex of the dressing room you become instantly shocked and disgusted as you survey the situation.

“How could this be!?”, you ask yourself.

As you twirl around inspecting yourself from all angles, you determine that Satan himself has created the lighting (I propose candlelight in all dressing rooms).

In your own self-absorbed world, you are startled by the sales woman outside the door asking if everything is all right.  “No!”, you think to yourself, “Everything is not all right”.

Your butt is hanging out and, “Oh, my God, is that cellulite?”.

Feeling like Pillsbury dough in one of those tubes, you answer, “Yes I’m fine” (lie).

The sales person asks sweetly if you need another size, to which you reply, “yes or no” as you secretly wish scuba suits would come into fashion.

After several attempts at producing the best option, you start to reason with yourself (it’s the only way to get out alive).

You conclude that with a tan this will not be so bad and you find relief in a cute cover-up.  You also decide to ban carbs and now view sugar as a terrorist.

At the end of the day, we are all human and of course, have flaws.  But, remember girls, it’s not you.

It’s that damn fluorescent lighting.

Fragile tenant in my head

With praise and compliment you need fed.

I keep you small, lest you grow

A humble sense of self I would not know.

A relentless tyrant when insecure

I keep you at bay, what a chore.

Fueled by drama of all kind

I evict you from my mind.

I have no need for false pretense

I do not carry an inflated sense.

I refuse to indulge you, try as you might

But someone please tell me; does my hair look alright?

Betrayed, fooled and battered

Unhinged to discover my kindness never mattered.

You spewed your hate undercover

I’m made wise from another.

Verbal distortion for my destruction

Your words seep into my mind like poison.

What called you to this hateful crime?

Envy’s craving for what is mine.

Defiance you show, but remorse you hide

Ego speaks words of pride.

Your indifference robs my soul

As I discover I played the fool.

Birthdays are traumatic for women over the age of 35.  You’ll start hearing words like “middle aged” get thrown around (awful).  The customer service agent now refers to you as Ma’am, and you have to check a different box on forms for your age bracket now.  That alone is hard to handle.

I remind myself that this sort of superficial indulgence in vanity is not healthy and consider the alternative to not having a birthday.  Besides, 40 is the new 30 (with fillers and Botox, I bet it can be).  Anyway, the glass is half full and I’m healthy and alive, sun damage and all.   Happy birthday to me.

I must celebrate/soothe myself with shoes (and vodka).  My arsenal of Buddha books can only take me so far.  I’m still working on that detachment thing.  I’m trying to detach myself from my age (good start).

Yes, I know true enlightenment requires indifference toward material goods.  Let’s just say I’m not yet fully enlightened, but enchanted.  Why can’t a girl like Buddha and Louboutins?

Prancing around in lovely shoes is a spiritual experience for most women.  At least a momentary one until you are brought back to earth by the price.  Ah yes, the price of beauty.  The price that could feed a small Tibetan village (guilt), and the fact that after an hour your feet are throbbing (stupidity).

But they are beautiful and handmade.  I appreciate the craftsmanship, integrity of the quality, and the flash of red as you click by (such bold showiness still makes me a little nervous).  These shoes have soul.  They are symbolic of my philosophy in life (no, I’m not just trying to justify the purchase, I swear).

The older I get, the more I admire quality over quantity in everything, especially people.  I have less of everything but it’s well made and lasts forever.

It just goes to show you that all you need is a good sole.