When I first moved to Brooklyn from Pennsylvania thirteen years ago, I basically had no idea what I was doing. Like, at all.
So, after I was invited to my first grown-up dinner party, I remember wandering around a liquor store on Flatbush Avenue, looking for a cheap but nice bottle of wine to bring. Too scared to ask the guy at the counter for a suggestion, I just stood there, quaking in my Doc Martens, trying to read labels without actually touching anything.
And then it happened: A man wearing a beret walked into the store!
I figured any beret-wearing fellow must know something about wine, so I secretly trailed him to see which bottle he’d choose. Then, I chose the same one. I have no idea if the wine was any good, but I do know that the dinner party was a success, because the host has now become one of my oldest friends.
Maybe great friendships always start with a beret. I just met a super-cool chick last week named Jean, who makes those floppy little hats, uses words like “craptastic,” and writes a fantastic crafty blog (and I’m not just saying that because she wrote about me.) Please check her out!
And please give a little love to my friends who don’t wear berets, like Lipstick & Dipstick, who wrote about my book, and writer and cupcake connoisseur Rachel Kramer Bussel, who interviewed me for her great piece on book trailers for the Huffington Post. Thanks, guys!
Aww. Thanks. I’m having a beret-makin’-blitz on Saturday. What color do and Miss H want?
Really? Really? So cool! H says she’d love “something fabulous, like polka dots.” I’d like one that’s crrrazy. Also, you should know, I have a giant head.
I specialize in pumpkin heads, I have one myself. Just measure the circumference of your head and her head and lemme know.
Thanks for posting this, reading your blog I’m amazed how much time you have put into it.