I really thought I couldn't bring a camera! bad pictures

Me and the bus.

Me in the theater

Suzanne Somers in lower left corner, Kyle MacLachlan in center with white collar.

That's the backs of Jerry & Jessica.

Whitney Port's updo, and the ladies onstage.

Link to the gowns on EW site.

Huffington Post

Oh, and we did see Michelle Trachtenberg at the party, and Jennifer Love Hewitt on the red carpet cam.

I am at the Center of Glamour

As anyone who has come in contact with me in the last week already knows, my husband and I were gifted with tickets to the premiere (AND AFTERPARTY) of SEX AND THE CITY 2. (ThankyouthankyouthankyouJasonLinn) I am there! I am on the phone rounding up babysitting! I got a pedicure! I am out buying 4 inch platform wedges! But I am going to wear my all-purpose Little Black Dress. It's my most expensive clothing purchase ever, and I am still amortizing. I apologize to the girlfriends who would love to tag along, I would love to take you, but I am married to a man who would enjoy this almost as much as myself. And I love him for that.

Now, getting into midtown Manhattan at rush hour takes some planning, so I left at 4pm, parked the car at Lincoln Center, directly under where the party would be (because I'm logistically gifted that way), and walked down (wearing sparkly flip-flops) to Radio City Music Hall. I had some time to stop at Bergdorf's, where the windows are SATC-themed. Yes, I wanted to grab every saleslady and shake her shoulders and whisper-shout "I'm going! I'm going! Tonight! To the movie! And the party!" I kept my cool. I went up to the shoe department and changed into my wedges to practice walking around a bit. As I bent to down to do up the ankle strap, I notice a fabulous lady was wearing Vivienne Westwood rubber ballet flats! Wow! She was Italian, I think. I felt like a bit of a poseur in the Chanel department with my two pearl necklaces tied up with a black silk flower. But I tried to look dignified. Or something.

I met up with dear husband in Rockefeller Center and we made it to our seats in the auditorium. Better seats than I had imagined, right in the middle of the orchestra. Red carpet arrivals (over on the other side of the block) were broadcast on giant screens. Liza! John Corbett! Jason Lewis! (You could see his blue eyes blazing on the giant screen.) There's SJP! In one-shoulder draped chartreuse chiffon. Matthew! Kristin Davis! Bright pink strapless. Kim Cattrall! Plunging neckline sheer scattered with gold sequins. Cynthia Nixon! I don't remember what she was wearing!

So, we waited patiently in our seats as the auditorium filled. Zac Posen was a few rows in front of us, near Valentino! The crowd periodically erupts with camera flashes and squeals as people recognize famous people. Lynn Cohen, who plays Miranda's housekeeper Magda, was in our row. I think I was sitting next to her granddaughter. David Eigenberg (Steve) (who really does talk like that), and Daniel Handler (Harry) sat BEHIND us with their families. Vanessa Williams, Suzanne Somers (whose menopause book is mentioned over and over in the movie, million-dollar blond hair), Gabourey Sidibe, and Gilles Marini all sat a few rows ahead of us. My personal favorite-KYLE MACLACHLAN!! I jumped up, flapped my hands and squealed. And took a picture. Twin Peaks! BLUE VELVET! GGAAAHHH! He was right at the end of the row in front of us. Also Jerry and Jessica Seinfeld, Donald and Melania Trump, and Anna Wintour. Oh, and Johnny Weir (if you don't know who that is, think Adam Lambert on ice). Also George Stephanopoulos, Whitney Port, and Padma Lakshmi (that's special for my dear hubby). And Chris Noth and Willie Garson.

Finally the lights went down, and Michael Patrick King took the stage to introduce the film, give a few thanks, and introduce the leading ladies. Wait, are they showing a movie here? We'd been at our seats for an hour, I kind of forgot that part.

I don't want to give any spoilers, but to sum up, it is like a 2-hour version of the show, much more frothy, funny, and warm than the first movie, which I found so wrenching and heartbreaking I only watched it once. I must now say a few words about the new guy. Miranda's lust interest is a "Danish architect", an actor I never saw before. Where did they find this guy! In England, duh. As I discovered when I looked him up on IMDB, his name is Max Ryan, and previously he's only done action movies (what you didn't see "Death Race"? Neither did I). If Daniel Craig does anything for you, I recommend.

Movie over, everyone shuffled very slowly to the exits. We caught up to David Eigenberg facing the wrong direction, throwing his hands in the air, screeching, "I lost my wife! I lost my wife!" We shuffled outside and got in line to take a double-decker tour bus 10 blocks north to Damrosch Park in Lincoln Center. A patterned red carpet strewn with rose petals and lanterns led past fans behind barricades to the tent, where a big security guard asked to see invites, and then plucked it out of your hands as he invited you to enter. But... but... My souvenir! Gone.

The party was in a giant tent, with ottomans and flowers and buffets filled with falafel and shish kabobs, cocktails, a DJ, and alcoves with couches marked "Reserved". We got some plates of food, having never eaten a proper dinner. I waited for my dear husband at the end of the hallway that led to the restrooms. He returned and said, "that architect guy is in the bathroom." Me: "So, if we wait here I'll see him when he come out?" "Yes." "Okay" "There he is...that's him, right?" Me "(sigh) yes". Do I have the best husband OR WHAT! We saw "architect guy" a bunch more times just hanging out, as he is not quite famous yet. We made three circuits around the room to absorb the fabulousness...and gape...we saw Matthew Settle, Hoda Kotb, Cojo, Guy Pearce (great glasses and we totally made eye contact), Gilles Marini (not my cup a tea exactly, but WOW), Ron White (plays Miranda's bad boss), Adam Shankman, and Victor Garber. Fern Mallis, who just stepped down as head of the CFDA-she couldn't walk 10 feet without another gay calling out, "Fern! Fern!". There was a photo booth from sponsor HP where we got our picture taken. It was supposed to go to my email, but it hasn't shown up. I do have a hard copy.

It turns out there was no other party for more special people! We were at the real party! I didn't expect that. I assumed the stars would be behind a rope or a curtain, or somewhere else entirely. By the time we left, we had seen all four ladies, Matthew Broderick, Chris Noth (yes, his fingers grazed my hip), Evan Handler (brushed up against him in the crush), David Eigenberg (very nice salt and pepper hair), Mario Cantone, Willie Garson, and (sigh) John Corbett. He looked great with longer hair. I have never in my life seen so many good-looking men in one room in my life ever. But in a crowd that's 60% gay, 10% actor, and most of the rest well groomed entertainment execs in their best suits, I guess I should not be surprised. But I was!

Eventually we did run into a publicist working the event that my dear hubby knows, and chatted with him for a while, about "SATC2" vs. "Prince of Persia" at the box office this weekend. Will the ladies who might be tempted to see the "Prince" be instead inexorably drawn to SATC2? We shared a Jake moment (sigh). And Craig invited us to actually sit on couch of "reserved" area. Ooooohh. My feet.

Now I must return to normal life, and get the barf smell out of my station wagon. Sorry to bring it down to earth so hard.

I'll post more pictures separately, right after I finish this Cosmo.

Jazz Hands

Last night, I (and Michael) went to the theater. Many who know me have heard my mock-shamefaced confession that I don't really like live theater. With music or without. There's people shouting and over-enunciating and I can hear their feet stomping around on stage (involuntary shiver).

I am not totally immune. I LOVED Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I was unable to leave my seat at the end of the show as "Heroes" rang out over the PA, my jaw hanging open and mind reeling. Spring Awakening was shocking, starring Lea Michelle and Jonathan Groff (lately of Glee). It seemed like an impossible trick to pull off, adapting a turn-of-the-last-century German play with a rock score. But it was awesome, and I can say I've seen Michelle and Groff DO IT live onstage. Keep waiting, Gleeks.

Also, I did enjoy The Lion King, and cried three times during the course of the show.

Which brings me to last night's performance of Everyday Rapture. I cried. I cried several times... At a one-woman show... I know.

I do love to read heart-breaking memoirs - Running with Scissors, Liar's Club, David Sedaris when he's serious. So imagine that a gifted memoirist is also a very gifted singer/actress. Weaving in songs that already break your heart. As she illustrates her struggle to reconcile her Kansas Mennonite-lite upbringing with her desire to "live your life in a song" on Broadway and become a "pagan, money-grubbing, showoff whore". It all adds up to me in a red-velvet seat with tears running down my cheeks.

I was especially moved by...well...almost every bit of it, and it was very funny too. Young ladies, do not lose your virginity to a street magician.

Oh, and her name is Sherie Renee Scott. And Mr. Rogers taught her about the possibility of living unashamed and accepted just as you are.

The most perfect song was Nilsson's "I Guess the Lord Must Be In New York City", which puts it all in a tiny nutshell. Just this week I have been listening to that song as well as "Everybody's Talkin'", on the iPod, in my office, trying not to sing out loud while walking the dog, wondering can I pull this off at my next karaoke night. Which I have about once every ten years or so. I have plenty of time to practice.

As a added bonus for suburbanites paying babysitters, it's an imtermissionless 90 minutes, right on 42nd St. You can be back on the 10:15 bus.

I've been hiding out for 10 years. Being a housewife. Dropping out of touch with old friends, spending most days alone. Then I got a dog, and I caved in to peer pressure and joined Facebook, which I had scoffed at for years. And found I couldn't stop writing. People have encouraged me to write over the years, and I thought, if I wanted to write, I'd be writing. So now I'm writing.

Apparently, a dog really does work as an anti-depressant, at least for a mild case. Yesterday, my dear family was out of the house, on a shining Sunday morning, and instead of parking my butt in front of the television, catching up on the DVR backlog (and knitting), I took Copper to the dog park. Generally, I consider myself impervious to the "beautiful day". What better way to waste a sunny day than indoors watching television, or even better, in a dark movie theater. It's what passes for feeling naughty these days. And now look at me, going outside. Willingly and of my own volition.

So I will be sharing the thoughts and ideas that are burbling up and can no longer be suppressed. Thanks to all those who have encouraged me. I turns out I am one of those people who needs to tell l the whole world what I think.