The man in the rose-coloured jeans

Admittedly, it has been awhile since I wrote a blog post.  Sorry dear readers… I promise to be more diligent this summer.  I mean, really, if I want to be discovered for something that will yield a ‘c’ or even ‘b’ list status in order to get a call from Dancing with the Stars, blogging could be my meal ticket.

With that, I bring you: The man in the rose-coloured jeans.

Earlier this week, I found myself at The Body Shop (though this is, in principle, against my Fruits and Passion roots, no such stores are in New York… so I made lemonade whilst in search of a pillow spray).  While smelling a bar of summery pink grapefruit glycerin soap, a man who entered store caught my eye.  Maybe it was because he gave off a vibe or maybe it was because he was wearing dusty rose-coloured jeans.  Who knows?  When I turned around, I spotted him removing a tester of men’s cologne off the shelf, coyly flipping it in his hand and sliding it into his pocket.  Outrage!  Having worked in this industry for years, shoplifters officially give me mad rage.  Enter mission: catch the criminal.  I calmly walked over the cash register and told the two clerks I had just seen the pilfering go down.  They quietly made a call and headed over to chat with the man who proclaimed an interest in gift sets (what… to put down his pants?!).  Giving him items to smell and products to try, the clerks kept him in the store until security arrived.  Security came in the form of a large man, probably 220 lbs and dressed in uniform.  All of us had gleeful aura surrounding us, lest the criminal escape the throngs of our plan… however, it was clearly foolproof.  We’d done all the heavy lifting:  Spotting the crime and secretly detaining the criminal.  Enter mall security in the most ‘epic fail’ moment ever.

Security guard: “What am I here for?”

Clerk tries to secretly point to the thief.

Security guard: “So someone stole something?”

Rose-coloured pants man takes his additional new ‘time killing’ sample and leaves.

Security guard: “Oh – that was him?  Well, what did you want me to do?  Search him?”

Ummm… yes! 

A long story short – the man in the pink pants made a mad dash off the property and the guard watched him do it.  The upside, I got a high-five from one of the clerks for my Nancy Drew-inspired skills.   After not only watching this go down, but having been part of it, I have discovered some very important life lessons:


1) My uncertainty surrounding the effectiveness of mall cops has hit an all-time high and is apparently well-founded .


2) Pink jeans for men are seemingly being crafted and sold throughout the world.  To some, the shoplifting would take a backseat to this offense alone.

3) Sometimes finding the perfect pillow mist can get you caught up in a situation you would never expect... like a heist, or a fashion crime.

All I can say is next time I see someone pocket body care, I’m going to pull out my high kick and nab the thief myself.  I can hear Tom Bergeron telling the story now…

Thank goodness for garbage collectors… and the Obama children

Heading home for Christmas was a great getaway –  I had to be up around 4 am and was plagued by brief, interrupted sleep.  After counting sheep (literally, I tried it and failed because I imaged them dancing in the air like cows jumping over the moon), I fell asleep, dreaming that the Obama children were helping me pack using their Mary Poppins-esque carpet bags. I hope I at least gave them homemade muffins for their efforts, which makes me wonder if Michelle bakes now that she’s First Lady.  Is she allowed?  Does she own a J Crew apron?  Can she make carrot raisin muffins from ingredients from her White House garden? Does a special ‘taster’ need to be involved to ensure they are right for Presidential consumption?).  In any case, a heartfelt thanks to Malia and Sasha – I’ll look to you two to helping us move in a few weeks.

Coming back to NYC in early January was the perfect time to hit the ground running on the New Year.  We arrived one week after a huge snow storm and were greeted by the garbage and recycling remnants on streets, piled more than 5’6” high, with only enough sidewalk room left available for one person to walk down a path at a time.  A few days ago, light flakes of coconut-coloured snow began to fall and ‘emergency command posts for winter weather’ were deployed.  I’m pretty sure 1/89^th of an inch of snow fell, but we were prepared this time.  Mayor Bloomberg was featured in a press conference and school was cancelled. Coming from Canada, I think back to the days I trudged through knee-high snow and can’t help but feel I would probably still be in junior high if school was cancelled every time 12 snowflakes fluttered from the morning sky.   On the upside, the emergency procedures meant that garbage trucks were deployed with tire chains.  Oh New York, how you entertain me.

Above: A view from our apartment...

Below: A view from the street...



I’m looking forward to writing a full report on our impending move to the Financial District and the start of tap lessons later this month.  For now, I’m off try on my new tap shoes and dance around the apartment to “Marry You” from Glee (I'm pretty sure they can't evict us for noise infractions this close to our move out date... can they?).  At least I'm not singing Glee Karaoke here.  I'm saving that for the new place.

A Little Bit Wicked

With the east coast winds whistling through the streets of Manhattan, it seems about time I got my blog up and running. Frankly, sitting down at a computer seems like a much better option than wearing earmuffs and 12 jackets just to walk to the grocery store. I don’t need Jell-O that badly. In any case, since moving to New York City is August, I’ve been squirreling away anecdotes and stories which I expect to be the primary content for updates. Without the colourful characters I meet in passing (or some of whom I seek out intentionally), I’m not sure I would have enough fodder for the blogosphere.

At this point, I should probably give my first shout out to Kristin Chenoweth, Broadway icon and my personal theatrical inspiration. It was Thanksgiving week when I took a walk down to the local library and picked up her biography, ‘A Little Bit Wicked.’ Since then, I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m not saying it is Kristin’s fault, but I couldn’t put the book down and now my sleeping patterns have been thrown into the proverbial cauldron of doom. Yes, it’s my personal Oz without the ruby slippers. The downside is I’ve since finished the book, but the upside is I devoured every tasty morsel and can safely say she is topping my list of favourite celebrities. It is thanks to Kristin that I’m up at this late hour kicking off the blog. My own memoirs will certainly reflect my gratitude.

Though I don’t want to give away the farm in this first post, I can’t help but kick things off with a quick picture I want to paint for you: Imagine a man, probably 5’9”, wearing a black unitard (think “circus weightlifter) and black fishnets. His hair is tied in a low ponytail and he wears running shoes that match this whole ensemble (I know! I don’t know what shoes I would wear if I put that on the morning, but this gentleman never waivers from his fashion choices). He runs through the community, dodging traffic and weaving through pedestrians on sidewalks. This is life in New York. You can wear anything you want while running through the streets... especially if you’re late for your male burlesque show.

I’m getting ready to head home for the holidays and I’m thrilled to already have a packed agenda with time booked in for all of my family and friends. Wouldn’t you know, as I draw ever closer to boarding that plane, the infamous signs of a cold have begun to surface. I blame New York’s aromatic and somewhat polluted air supply, oh, and the million plus tourists touching the door handle of my favourite Starbucks. Well, it’s not like all of the city’s visitors are going to that location, but still. Anyone sniffing on 3rd and E 41st, I’m watching you. Just saying.

Anyways, I’m off to the airport on Tuesday and have visions of the TSA doing their full body scan and seeing into my nasal passages to witness what the Sudafed has kept from their sidelong glances. Perhaps I’ll go with the manual pat down this time – it couldn’t be more invasive than trying to get up close and personal with the Rockefeller Centre Christmas Tree.

Above: The Rockefeller Christmas tree four days before it was lit

Above: The lights are on! I know it doesn't look that busy... but that's the power of 10 optical zoom.

Now, for what might just be my favourite part of the blog… Random quotes I hear while walking down the street!

This one comes from my December 8 walk down to the Fashion District.
Here's the scene: Man on the street, leaning against a building... quote: “You’re not the problem, Frank. I think we both know that.”

Personally, I want more information… but that’s the beauty of catching random parts of people’s conversations. I can make up any scenario I want… like maybe Frank is the runner in fishnets and Kristin Chenoweth’s book is the problem because Frank hasn’t been able to get his workout in due to sleep deprivation. Hey, it’s New York. Anything could happen.