Tag: blog

Have We Met Before?

For those familiar with the British comedian Miranda Hart, tuning in to Call Me Kat this season (Fox) felt a little bit like déja-vu. That’s in great part because Call me Kat is executive-produced by Hart and inspired by the comedy show named after its creator, Miranda (all seasons available on Hulu). “Inspired” is not exactly the best word to describe it. From the opening to the closing credits, the show makes ample use of every successful joke and quirk of one of Britain’s biggest cult hits. From set design, to character development, show running, catch phrases, no stone was left unturned, which for fans of Miranda, can be a tad… disheartening (pun intended).

The biggest flaw this show has is possibly that of not utilizing Miranda Hart as one of the characters, if not as Kat herself. I don’t mean any disrespect towards Mayim Bialik, who’s a terrific actress, but there’s a certain je ne sais quais that only Ms. Hart can offer to her characters. The physicality, facial expressions, quick wit, pitch in voice and height, are to me some of the main points. As good as Bialik is, she cannot carry this show, which ends up relying heavily on the quirks of Leslie Jordan and the banal jokes that come along with most of everything that he does, including his Instagram account.

Bialik I feel, is capable of so much more, but is stuck in a rut. Perhaps it’s time for someone to whisk her out of this genre that is so comfortable to her and place her into something a little more intriguing and dramatic, that will display other challenges that she is surely capable of tackling.

As for Kat, well, it seems she will have a short life on-screen. If this show continues to rely so heavily on its pastiche jokes and fantastic content that appears nothing like reality, it will really not go very far. Call Me Kat doesn’t work, at least not in the way it’s being presented. That oversized cat cafe? Give me a break. The notion that Kat is a manly spinster? Just doesn’t fly. The relationship between mother and daughter? Not believable. The fourth wall? It’s feeling more like a plexiglass divider. This show needs to pick its lane and stick to it, right now it lacks identity and confidence and teeters on the edge of cataclysm.

If a reprise of Miranda is what they wanted to bring to America, then why not just go ahead and do it right? Don’t ever underestimate the wits of the American audience, or you may fall flat.

#HappyNewYear

Beverly Hills, December 31, 2018; 10PM.

To those who belong in my heart and who helped me build my soul.

I am not particularly fond of big celebrations, especially birthdays, Christmases, and above all, New Year’s Eve; those who know me well know that about me. The entire month of December is an intense struggle for me, it begins with my birthday on the 6th, and then it’s just full throttle until about mid-January when people finally stop sending well-wishes and all that good stuff that we are all happy to hear. It’s not that I am not pleased to get them, it’s that it makes me feel uncomfortable, insecure and awkward. Why? No clue; nor am I interested in finding out. I have grown accustomed to this part of myself, of all things that could be strange about me, I believe this is the least problematic. I have chosen in recent years that these special times are for me an opportunity to look within and reflect on the things I should improve on, and also congratulate myself on. I decided that meditation and space are necessary for me not to fall into the traps of the mind, which historically have taken control of me during these times.

With this note, I would like to take a moment to share with you my gratitude and eternal appreciation. I would like to share that none of the gestures went unnoticed. I would like to state for the record that if I failed to respond to a note or nudge in a timely manner, it’s because I am profoundly insecure in this moment of my life. Every little thing sets off the panic buttons inside me, and then I retreat. This is a lousy flaw to have, especially in a time when I need so much to get me off the ground, and especially when so many of you have shown up and riled up around me with love and support. I would probably not be writing this note right now if it wasn’t for you.

If I didn’t answer any birthday messages, its not you, it’s me. Don’t take it personally, I have not answered ANYBODY’s notes, because I am an equal opportunity non-answerer and because I made a conscious decision to write this letter, on this day. Please understand, I have a real irk about answering in a hurry to people and messages that should be answered with time, care and attention because they are supposed to be meaningful, honest and from the heart, not from obligation. I have birthday cards sitting on my desk that I haven’t even read, only because I don’t feel I would be doing them justice if I wasn’t to be entirely dedicated to their message.

I hope that this new year will bring me atonement, clarity, peace of mind and strength to keep going on. I hope that I am able to keep the things I learned at the top of my mind and that I am able to learn from the many mistakes I made. I wish, for those I’ve hurt, that they have nothing but joy, peace of mind, and good fortune; I hope they can be patient just a little more and trust that I will repair the mistakes that I have made.

I wish that this new year brings me back to me, I hope that I can understand myself a little bit better and treat myself with more respect and dignity. I have raped my soul and torn it apart in the hopes of finding who I really am, and I am still at a loss. Perhaps this is what it was meant to be like all along, and the next chapter will unfold in a less copacetic manner, but a much more purposeful and rewarding one? I leave this question to the air so that the Gods and Goddesses can answer at their convenience.

I love you, believe me, and we will meet again soon.

With much admiration and gratitude, yours,

Gabriel, Mano, Rocha, Pai, Gabe, Gabby, Gabri, Marlene, Pirua, Seu Piru, Guri, Gabi, Puta, Bil, Bee, Gurl, G.

“The best is yet to come.”

Coffee and TV

This version of me smokes cigarettes with the depth of a film noir diva. This person drinks coffee as if it was a rare elixir, a fountain of youth. This version of me is a beautiful and perfectly calculated woman. She is sultry and her sex is a lethal weapon. She is Gigi from Casino, Cookie from Empire, Gloria from Gloria, Lauren Bacall and Jennifer Lawrence all rolled into one.

The truth is that this woman has been emulated over the years through my actions, my decision making, my diatribes and my behavior towards work, life and particularly sex. The power that she has is almighty but her heart is shattered. She maintains an approachable aura that in fact prevents her from being touched by anyone. Inside she’s frail, she is alone. The struggle between self-sufficiency and loneliness is ever present.

This woman is who I wish I was or could become. She is what I wish I had as a role model. I will never forget the first time I saw Sharon Stone on the screen, a bewitching being unlike any other I had seen before. In person, Stone is even more fascinating. She is loud, tall, has an arresting smile, and a contagious laughter. Her body is like a statue, even at the height of her fifties, she is still one of the most gorgeous women I have ever met.

As a kid I wanted to be Sharon Stone, or what I believed Sharon Stone was like. In Basic Instinct she had more power than any of the other characters – she dominated them with a look. When the doors to the world shut down and she found herself alone, she had the same effect on herself, drowning in her own seduction.

I always worshiped women. Women to me are untouchable. Growing up I listened to female singers pretty much 95% of the time, my friends were all girls, I spent most of my family time with my aunts, and my TV idols were also all women. I always envisioned myself as one of them, sashaying across a stage, dancing and trading energy with the crowd. I could see what the cover art of my CD would look like. I could hear the sound of my music. None of those things ever happened, perhaps because I am not a woman, or anything like the woman I believed I should be like. What could have prevented me from pursuing my goals? Could it have been fear of having to deal with the results of whatever endeavor I’d throw myself into? Could it have been fear of unraveling, like many of my idols have when they accomplished their dreams?

Inherently I feel that I am my happiest as a man, I love my body and the life I have created for myself. My life inspires me too. Still, when I close my eyes and daydream, my constant lady reappears, her who takes no shit from anyone and is adored by most. My hope for this girl however, is that she realizes she doesn’t need anyone else to feel less alone, no walls to protect her, she has herself and her dreams, that is the poetry she is meant to be living. The idea is to accept this woman as another part of myself. Having this other side protected within me is important because that is also what protects me. I will keep Cookie, Ginger, Gloria, and Lauren tucked away. I will continue to bring them out, as sometimes I do, for opportune appearances in my day to day life. I will incorporate Cookie when I need to serve a cold dish of revenge, or Gloria when I need to protect my people. Nothing defeats me, nobody messes with me, not even myself.

The Race

mind racing

too many faces and places

where I’ve been and where I don’t belong

the mind churning, the year’s turning

Life doesn’t play on like a song

mind scattered

thoughts shattered

memories lost

paths that have been crossed

Never to go back again

drugs to calm the pain

to alleviate the brain

time for restraint is time for complaints

time for complaints no time to feel vain

there is no measure

the extent of damage

far beyond the pleasure

held as a treasure

the drug is the drug is the drug

the weapon of choice is louder than my voice

The weapon  of our time is stronger than our minds

Will power

Maybe only to take a shower

Won’t cower

Not even when my life goes sour

Wasted 20 lbs of lazy

On a hazy daisy

Winning at being lazy

Try to fight

Make things right

But shit is stronger than my might

Racing but not facing

This is gonna be your last game.

C Train

9 am on the C train
Holding on, squeezing in

Trying to fit in
Grab the bag, hold the pole, take control
Holding on to what’s left
Holding on to the dream

Living the delusion
Feelings and confusion
It’s never what it once was
It’s never what it will be

Found a place for myself
In your arms no one else
How have I done wrong
How was I so wrong

Alone in my head
The chill in my bed
And my heart feeling sad
Breaking
Once again

Broken

Your shoes in the rack
Nothing but a token
Words unspoken
Left me with a wound open
Bleeding

Trying to face my feelings
Facing the ultimate rest
Uneasy
Facing the test

It’s all about you and none of the rest
It’s all for you for my life to relax
To keep actions in check
To stop words from causing distress

Silent All These Years

In the careful decision to peacefully sit in his living room with no music, no phone, no books or television, he hoped for the sweet comfort of silence. He listened to the white sounds in the background, like the hum from the neighbor’s air conditioners, the airplanes flying in and out of JFK, or the cars driving down Flatbush Avenue, at a safe distance. He carefully examined the brown sounds of the blue jays, hawks, canaries and a myriad of other birds he couldn’t name, but wish he did. He did not hear any pigeons and found that to be rather amusing. There were occasional dogs barking, a giggle from a child, or a door to a patio opening up. How lucky must these people be, to live in New York and be able to afford the outdoor space?

In this mix of delight and anxiety produced by the sounds of early morning he hoped to find clarity and direction. He hoped these moments of stillness would bring him closer to a solution to the many dilemmas that haunted him. He felt elated by the ability to be still and alone without wanting to rush to the left or the right. Sometimes he wondered if his life would’ve been easier had he been born an idiot, a complete clunk. He thought of those people who only own one sheet and one shoe and yet cherish them like gold, without desiring for anything other than what they have. Who are these people? Do they understand the world they live in? Have they always been this way or did life condition them into passiveness?

These are thoughts that go through his head. Certain times these thoughts can be perversive, and their simple occurrence frightens him. Would he really be able to act on any of them? Do other people also carry darkness within their bright spectrum?

In the silence he sat, trying to block out the white noises until he accepted them for lack of choice. He really did believe he was listening to the silence, but the silence was listening to him all along. Like a sponge, the muggy air of the late summer soaked in the thoughts that seeped through his soul, the air was drenched. Perhaps all that humidity he was feeling was in fact a product of his own thoughts?

The silence is quiet and pensive, it pushes you to arrive at your own conclusions. That’s how he felt then, as if he was making progress in his interval for sanity. The truth is that the silence fed the thoughts back to him, filtered, unscrambled, clear of pollution. He suddenly had the answers he needed. Only the ones he needed, not the ones he wanted.

Faces and gestures remained in the membrane that separates the body from the soul. He was pulled towards these faces of people he had known and not spoken to for more than ten years. At college, some of these people seemed as if they would last for an eternity, but they vanished faster than a sunset.

He thought of his friend who lived alone in an island and wondered about her well-being. He decided it was time to check in. He felt guilty but warm too, for having her in his thoughts was like having his old pal sitting next to him talking trivial talks, like the maintenance of a swimming pool or the life of a circus freak. He missed those talks and wondered how was it possible that they had now gone over three months without even exchanging a single text message. He pondered whether he had done her wrong in any way but decided none of that had anything to do with anything anyway.

He pushed the thought away to return to the silence but her face kept coming back as if it was magnetized and being pulled by his aura. Finally, a new thought came and the moment became a new minuscule obsession about interest rates on credit cards. He made an immediate financial decision and then realized he still hadn’t changed the mailing address for the cable bill. In the busying of his head he was still in silence.

This occupied silence spoke to him in intense waves. He shed a tear first, then two more, for no particular reason. His chest felt swollen and the only solution was an unconscious physical reaction. He took a deep breath and shed a laugh instead. He now felt blissful, in ecstasy. He felt ignorant. He felt irrelevant. How beautiful it is to be irrelevant, a human among humans, without titles or borders. He cursed on technology and then apologized for it. He realized how lucky he was. He realized how real he was. He felt valued, not by others, but himself. This was a novel thought, perhaps even an epiphany. The silence was talking to him, the silence was telling him things he never knew, things no friend, mentor or therapist had ever said. The silence told him to push through and be strong. The silence told him to come back, every day, and more would be revealed. It was now up to him, only up to him.

Reaper

“My mom said that I can’t sing and I was like: I can’t sing good, but I can sing mom, anyone can sing!” concluded the girl behind the counter at Starbucks.

For the first time that perspective had crossed my mind: anyone can do anything. How often do I hear singers who can barely carry a tune and somehow have huge careers? I don’t suppose it’s always only about the quality of the singing voice, it is also about having the balls to face the music.

I sat at Starbucks sipping my overpriced coffee and thinking about this girl, working hard behind the counter and still with great sense of humor and an interesting outlook on things. I was led down a path of wonderment: how many people prevent themselves from living their dreams for fear of not being accepted or talented? Furthermore, how many people with very little talent but huge balls and charisma follow through with their passion and to a fault, succeed? Could this woman have been a singer or a pop star had she had the proper encouragement and means to do so? Probably.

For me it happened like that, I had a dream and I pushed through against all odds. My parents didn’t seem to believe it was possible, in fact those all around me were skeptical. I dealt with rejection and disappointment but the more I struggled the harder I worked for my goals and dreams. I succeeded. I don’t know whether I am the talented one or the fraud who got away with murder, but I’m doing things today that I had dreamed about in childhood and never thought were possible.

There seems to be an ordinance in place that tells us that to do certain things in life we need to take pre-determined steps, as if we inhabited a board game. Got a raise? Advance five steps and buy a house. Bought a house? Advance three steps and get married. Got married? advance two steps and have a baby. Had twins? Go back two steps and borrow money from the bank for student loans.

But life is not “The Game of Life”. Life is fluid and full of surprises and new ways. I have always been a believer in the philosophy that everything works out if you put your mind to it and pair it with hard work and dedication. You wanna have a baby? Go for it! Who cares if your house doesn’t have enough rooms? There will be a solution and if this is what will bring happiness to your life, why not just do it? Now, do I think that some people who are having babies should actually have babies? No, absolutely not, but that’s none of my business; at least they’re not telling lies to themselves but instead simply living life.

I suppose the central factor here is the question of destiny. Can we be reapers of life, ceasing control of things that aren’t ours to begin with and make them our own? Can we bend destiny?

My experience tells me so. My experience tells me that even though the heavy weight pressuring my chest and generating anxiety is hard to overcome; it is not impossible. We put on our big boy shoes and go to the mattresses.

I’ve had my awards acceptance speech ready to go since I was about ten years old. I carry that speech in my wallet and update it from time to time. I keep it as a reminder to never stop pursuing my dreams and to work hard with focus and patience. Soon enough the day to actually use it might come.

I Am Not Writing Today

I didn’t write today. Not a word on the paper, not a tap for the keyboard. I woke up early as I always do, I reached for the phone and that was the kiss of death. The sexual drive of the early morning took over my mind and I scrolled through a few inappropriate pages on tumblr. I thought of a cute guy who poked me on Facebook and went on to check out his page. On Facebook the notifications overwhelmed me, so I took care of those first, so I forgot to look at that page. 

I moved on to Instagram: Jordan had a birthday party and didn’t invite me. Bianca got married and her dress was horrible. The other agency got the model that I thought I was getting. The picture of a vegan quiche makes my mouth water, I take a screenshot of the recipe but I know I’m never going to cook it. 

I remember I have to do groceries so I send myself an email as a reminder. I quickly look through my inbox and see there’s an update for snapchat so I do that. I am now officially sucked into the universe of newly released filters. My neck hurts, my back hurts; shouldn’t I feel refreshed after a full night of sleep? I stare at the phone screen for solid five minutes without moving a finger, in what can only be described as a near-catatonic state. An hour has passed and I haven’t even gotten to Twitter yet. My life is so sad right now. 

I finally get up, feed my (very) patient cat, prepare my super strange green shake and start getting organized for the day ahead. The time that was allocated for writing and meditation is gone. Maybe I’ll do 10 minutes of writing on my lunch break. I’ll meditate tomorrow (next month).

The morning goes by and suddenly it’s 2pm. There was no time for a lunch break, I’m moody, starving and pissed off at myself for not taking care of the things that truly matter to me. The phone rings again and I’m sucked back into the mess that my life has become. I lose my temper, I scream at people I should not be screaming at and I get lost in my self-pity all over again.

The day is done and I still have a full schedule ahead, so I cancel the coffee, the dinner and the drinks; I decide that my evening will be better spent writing and catching up on my finances. I visualize myself as the top executive in that movie from the 70’s, walking out the door carrying his briefcase, shouting at his secretary:

“clear my schedule for the rest of the day!”

“but…”

I’m gone before she can utter another word. She is left with my mess to take care of. That  thought makes me smile. 

On my way home I run a list of all the things I still need to do. I stop by CVS, Pet Central, the laundromat, the deli, and the grocery store. I spent way more money than I should’ve and I haven’t even been to the Vitamin Shop yet. 

At home I unpack, organize, feed the cat, play with the cat, look through the mail, remember that I forgot to pay the credit card bill, notice I need to take out the trash, and so I do it because it stinks. Another hour has gone by and I haven’t written a word. My brain is fried and I have to catch up on Game of Thrones, so I decide I’m too tired to produce anything relevant. I make up my mind: I’m not writing today.

500 Answers – Purpose in Life

What do you believe is your purpose in life?

When I turned 15 my stepmom’s gift was an astrological birth map. There were beautifully drawn charts filled with codes and symbols I could not understand. The package included two cassette tapes. We sat together on her bed and put the tapes on, carefully listening to the soothing voice of the astrologer, who along with my stepmom explained every piece of that delicate puzzle. This recording revealed, bit by bit, my entire life’s plan and journey according to the stars. I was impressed.

A lot of it rang true and sounded like I was on my way to making my dreams come true. There was one thing however that sounded odd. The astrologer told me I would have a successful career taking care of people and/or managing businesses.

    “This makes no sense, I would never do something like that, I wanna make movies”

Well, making movies might have been what I wanted, but it wasn’t my path. At age 17 I was approached by a modeling agency to join their staff and hired on the spot. Lo and behold, I ended up managing careers, making them into businesses and looking after people for a living.

Truth be told, I had been doing that all my life, I just didn’t know it. I looked out for my friends in school and helped out anyone who needed assistance. That is still true for me today. Whether I am at work or not, I’m always looking out for my people. To me, there is no greater pleasure than lending someone a hand. Friends and strangers benefit from this quality – to different degrees, but they all do.

Michelle Alves for Vogue Italia shot by Steven Meisel

I will never forget when Michelle Alves, one of the first models I ever worked with, sent me a note right before Christmas. She thanked me for what I had done for her, and that was it. All I had done was to send her flight details via fax and pick her up at a fashion show. I was a young assistant then and this was the first time any model had ever thanked me for my work. That day I felt for the first time that I had a purpose; I felt for the first time that I could make a difference in someone else’s life.

500 Answers – Message in a Bottle

While at the beach you decide to write a message in a bottle. What would it say? Who would you like to find it?

Dear Gabriel,

You were once young, much younger than you are now, which was far younger than I am today. You didn’t know, no one knew. We launch into life empty, some hopeful (as you were), some not. Some are barely alive, they can hardly be called vessels; but you were.

A shining example of endurance, fueled by dreams and passion. You lacked in pedigree but made up for it in the way you made those around you feel important. You made friends and brought them along with you. For every new victory you looked back to hug and acknowledge all those in your path. You would not have won without them: the nay-sayers, the cheerleaders, the silent companions; they were all there for you. You knew it and you shared it.

You inherently knew it, joy when shared multiplies. Through your suffering you gave joy, through your malaise you gave joy, through your losses you gave joy. You gave joy when there was none left. Where did you find it? I tell you, some questions go unanswered. Certain troubles not even God can reconcile, but that doesn’t stop him from inquiring, as it never stopped you from seeking.

Don’t stop now, don’t stop ever, that’s what makes you who you are. Believe in yourself, hold on to your friends and never stop asking the questions. This will make you a winner.

With love,

Gabriel.

How Models Taught Me it is OK to Miss Home

One of my assignments on fourth grade was to read a book about a girl who traveled abroad on an exchange student program. This was a thoroughly engaging tale of chasing independence, dealing with language barrier, new cultures and experiencing feeling homesick for the first time. After the class had read the book and turned in the essays, the school arranged for the author to come in to give a lecture. The girl was probably no more than ten years our senior and had attended our school. I had a transcendental experience, it was the first time I had met someone who had actually left home and gone some place else. Everything started to make sense to me. Everything, but the idea of feeling homesick.

“Why would she be crying just because she wasn’t home?” I didn’t get it. To me, getting out should feel more like a blessing than a curse. There was nothing wrong with my family or my upbringing, but I felt a longing for life abroad ever since I can remember. It made no sense and I could not explain it, I only knew how I felt.

A few years later, when I was eighteen, I finally got my first opportunity to go somewhere. I didn’t exactly make it out of Brazil but I was moving from Porto Alegre to São Paulo, which was significant. I was the first in my family to take such a big step and one of my first friends to go anywhere, for good. Think of it as moving from Charleston to New York. It was huge!

I remember dealing with models who were very young (but not much younger than I was), most of them between 14 and 16 years old. Many girls adjusted well to the life in the biggest metropolis of Brazil, pounding the pavement trying to make it in the world of modeling. A few others however, had terrible bouts of depression and loneliness and broke down quickly. Every now and then a girl would come into the office crying and desperate to get on the phone with her mother, just because she missed her parents or felt overwhelmed by the size of the city. I couldn’t relate with that feeling. I never cried, I never felt separated, I never felt distant. I was happy. What could be better than pursuing a career in one of the best modeling agencies in the world?

The first few months in my new city went by smoothly. I had to travel down south a couple of times to gather more of my belongings, so I still maintained a fairly close connection with my family. I didn’t have a place of my own, I was couch surfing with a friend of a friend until I figured things out. The distance from where I was staying to work was enormous. I had to take two buses and the journey could last anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour, and that’s not counting the late nights. The neighborhood was not only dangerous but the buses took longer than usual, as they ran more infrequently. As the challenges grew I began to understand, to a small degree, what some of those girls might have felt too.

Many years have passed since those first months in Sao Paulo. I now live in New York and find myself experiencing unique layers of emotional pain. It’s been three years since the last time I’ve been home. A series of events kept me from making the trip back from New York, including a break up, a green card and a new apartment. Life happened and before I knew it I found myself feeling anxious and irritable. I became an emotional wreck. I watch cartoons and I cry, the Lipitor commercials come on TV and I cry, I listen to music and I cry, heck, even Homeland has been making me cry. I have become a running joke among the people who know me.

I send Christmas cards with corny pictures of me and my cat, I write letters, I FaceTime. I used to denounce the holidays; now I love them. These days I celebrate tradition, and all I long for is a home of my own. For this person, who always believed in being independent and in belonging to the world, it’s quite a change. Could I be homesick?

Through a very painful process of shedding layers of pride and old resentments I believe I finally got to a point where I am able to accept my roots for what they are. I can finally admit that indeed I do miss home and all the drama that can be attached to it. My life may not be in the south of Brazil, but that doesn’t mean I have to abandon it all behind.

I’ve grown to admire and enjoy some of the traditions from my home country and state. I am proud of our beautiful sunsets, the tree-lined streets, the quality of life, the cultural vain that beats stronger than in most parts of that country. I celebrate the gaucho culture, our funny musical accent and even our orange (or is it red?) taxi cabs.

Being home is an opportunity to remember, recharge and reconnect. Going back gives me the chance to look at how far I’ve come and how capable I am of chasing dreams and goals that sometimes feel unsurmountable. When I’m homesick I realize that all those things were possible because of where I came from. The fact that I came from a reality so distant from the goals I was looking to achieve made me even more resilient. Home may be difficult, but it’s unlike any other place I’ve been to. Home is provincial, but it’s where some of my most special memories and connections are. As I age and experience life on life’s terms, I also realize that home is always going to be the place I turn to for reference and support, no matter where I end up.

Originally published in THE HUFFINGTON POST on Novemeber, 2015

On Beating the Taboo of Spirituality and Creating a Better Life

Spirituality is taboo. No matter how open minded we are, there’s a glimpse of a thought that prevents us from launching into the topic as we would about a TV show or a play. Whether we hold back to assess the situation and those around us, there is always that voice that whispers “proceed with caution” in the back of our heads.

Over the years I’ve seen spirituality expressed around me in many different ways. It was this flora of beliefs and practices that helped me find my own expression. I’ve found that people make their connection through religion, meditation, music, dance, support groups and study, to name a few. All of the aforementioned fascinate me for the way that each person builds their own individual relationship with something that is greater and more powerful than themselves. The sum of these examples have touched me in different ways.

I have never considered myself a religious person. I grew up in the south of Brazil, an area predominantly Catholic. My grandmother enrolled me in Sunday school, I was confirmed, joined the Boy Scouts and all that stuff that most kids don’t like to be associated with. I didn’t love those obligations, but I didn’t hate them either. The stories from the bible fascinated me. It was such a different world from the one I lived in. The 10 commandments baffled me. Not stealing? I get it, but some of that stuff just didn’t seem realistic to the 10-year-old version of myself.

Around that same time I met Berenice, my first English teacher. Berenice was Jewish, something completely new to me. I asked her questions, poked around and soon discovered that many of my classmates (in the Catholic school I attended) were Jewish too. I grew fascinated by their rituals and culture; moreover, I was fascinated by the sense of community they possessed. I immediately wanted to be one of them.

One of our religion class teachers, Pedro, was the epitome of cool, and the precise opposite of all other religion teachers, who were middle-aged nuns. Pedro brought his guitar to class, sang songs and created a stimulating environment in which we were invited to ask questions. In his classes we learned more not only about Catholicism, but all religions: Buddhism, Judaism, Islamism, the Amish and everything in between. Suddenly, all of us were engaged

Some 20 years later I ran into Pedro at my younger brother’s school, during soccer practice. My former teacher was still the same, dreadlocks and guitar included. I was surprised, he recognized me immediately. We caught up briefly and he told me he was let go from that job not long after I left that school. Polite, funny and sensitive as always, he didn’t go into details but I can speculate that perhaps his open minded beliefs and creative methods were a bit much for a traditional institution.

From those classes I remember becoming very aware about a sense of “destiny” and how life is full of coincidences. I also recollect not exactly understanding those feelings. I didn’t understand the purpose of prayer either. I didn’t get what sacrifice of one’s will for that of others meant. All I know is I always believed there was a force in charge of everything, making sure things happened according to a master plan. The problem was I never felt at ease. At one point I felt as if my life was spinning so fast that I was going to fall.

Around 2010, when I was in fact very close to falling, something clicked. My health had deteriorated and my career was collapsing. I had an immense sense of loneliness in New York and was completely afraid. I was then introduced to meditation. My friend told me about his spiritual practice and we launched into discussions about religion. To my surprise he had none, he was agnostic. My friend however, believed that he was in a spiritual path, and that all humans had a connection of the soul. Although agnostic he got on his knees to pray, daily. He did not pray to God, his prayers consisted of words of gratitude for his blessings, but also for all the negative experiences in his life. Those experiences taught him to push through, be stronger, and learn from mistakes.

It was from a simple conversation that the spark lit up a flame and I found myself no longer in the dark. There was hope. I started reading about different spiritual practices and learned to say more yes than no. Begrudgingly I started praying (not knowing what to, but I did it anyway), on my knees, as taught by my grandmother. I would then sit in silence and meditate; or at least I tried to. First for two minutes, than for five, and now sometimes I go for twenty.

Everything has changed and my practice has not remained linear. I’ve said prayers that belong to different religions, merely because I admired the meaning behind the words. I’ve studied different spiritual beliefs, like the Kabbalah, and I found a way back to myself through yoga, which if you had asked me before, I would have told you it was but a fashion trend.

I found that in the stillness of when I am alone I’m granted the answers I didn’t even know I was looking for. I discovered that there can be many different paths that lead to the same destiny, and I can get there a lot more peacefully if I have a spiritual connection. Whether my pursuit is in religion, meditation, or yoga, that’s all irrelevant. We all can connect within when we need answers or even if we simply want to feel re-energized. Millions of people on this planet can’t be wrong, if they have a spiritual practice that works for them then who am I to argue? Exploring different spiritual paths doesn’t take much time, it shouldn’t really cost any money and no one’s ever died from having too much spirituality and serenity in their lives.

Originally published in The Huffington Post – GPS for the Soul, October, 2015

Coffee Shop Ghosts

Who are these lonely crusaders of the keyboard? Who are these people who venture out into the unknown epicenter of words and numbers, in the middle of the afternoon, at quirky cafes or massive chains? Where did these beings come from and where do they belong? Do they not feel perturbed by the clinks and clanks of espresso machines and registers? Are they not phased by the screech of the milk frothers and the baby sitters shoving their strollers in whatever way they please?

Perhaps Benjamin woke up angry at his wife. He decided he needed to go write a letter to his high school sweetheart, the only person who ever really understood him, even in the silence. Gloria’s internet connection, on the other hand, was disrupted by the latest UFO to fly into town for the alien convention and she really could not wait another minute to wrap up her thesis on cloud anomalies. Actual clouds, not digital clouds. Could it be that Daniel has no place to call an office now that he is unemployed (staying at home creates an aura of depression and purposelessness)?

These people are magical beings, they populate areas which would likely go unused. These are creatures resented by some of the coffee enthusiasts, who would like to think they would go coffee tasting, if they had the space and the peace of mind to do so. What about the lovers who would like to sit at a table for a date and cannot, because there are ten computer rats crowding the environment? More intriguing are those who sit at the coffee shops and restaurants to watch movies or play video games. Is there really no better place to do it at than a crowded coffee shop? What is it about a busy restaurant that inspires someone to tune out the world and jump into the universe of Zelda?

I remember when I waited tables at a little cafe in Soho, a few moons ago, there was a girl who would always come in, order a regular coffee (which cost no more than two dollars) and sit there, on her laptop, working for hours. At the time I depended on tips and she never left any. She also took the space away from the good tippers, I thought. I couldn’t stand her, but at the same time I envied her. That woman had a purpose, she had things she needed done. For whatever reason, the non-tipper felt that our little cafe was welcoming enough that she could sit there for hours, entire afternoons! The owners of the cafe didn’t seem to mind, they probably felt she was good advertising, making the place look busy. The entire time I worked there I never saw her order anything other than her regular coffee. Not even a cookie! I bet that if I were to ask her, she would probably say she didn’t even like our coffee. I also bet she has a big career in astrophysics today, or something important like that. That girl had places to get to in life, she was tireless.

Cafes provide, perhaps, a sheltering environment away from loneliness but protected from interruptions. People most likely feel less inclined to talking to someone who’s on their computer, working. Nothing upsets me more than the person who feels comfortable enough to chit-chat with a perfect stranger. Call it social awkwardness but it’s at that moment when I really wish I’d have a computer to protect me.

A conclusion to this matter is still miles away but the endless amount of possibilities hidden behind each and everyone of these people is a thrill. The stories that run through my head during each trip to the local cafe are fabulous. The simple fact that they’re there, focused, makes me feel like they’re ten steps ahead of me. They’re the brave ones, facing the crowds, unafraid to explore their creative and professional needs, from full caf to decaf.

Originally published on MEDIUM.

Saudade

Saudade is a word without translation, not without meaning. Nothing prepares you for it. It sweeps you off your feet and lands you flat on the ground. It’s a theory and a paradox, it hurts so much, but oh, it feels so good! It washes you like a tall wave, it tackles you to only then lift you up again, out to fresh air where your lungs feel free and your heart relief. 

Saudade misses homes and pets, fast friends and long term partners. Saudade takes care of all, above and below. This is a feeling that reminds you of who you wanted to be when you grew up and who you were, just a week ago. Saudade craves food and green pastures, it craves smells and flowers. It inhabits your childhood bedroom, your baseball cards, your knick knacks and mementos.

Saudade feels like the first kiss – stolen. Saudade hums tunes in your ears, recites lines from old movies, and plays long forgotten. This feeling longs for attention, this feeling longs for your heart. Saudade makes you tight and then it expands you all over again. A sensation which awakens you to your truths, it’s not dark nor is it light, it just is – magic.

Love that remains, happiness that stays, long after it’s gone. Saudade. 

Temporary Rooms

I observe with the human lens. I watch them from the dimly lit corner of a room. They parade around with importance, tidying it all up for the honorable guests. They believe this is important. They believe this matters. I observe as the mechanical lenses line up at the edge of the room, always ecstatic and a bit hectic. They take position, a square each. A square, denoted by the neon tape that feels nothing, that says nothing, that breathes nothing. This tape somehow, the unliving tape, holds more power than some of the living things.

I observe in silence, as the lights briefly dim up bringing to center stage an army of long-limbed tall exquisite creatures. They walk in poetic march, built to inspire, built to promote, built for desire. 

I track the movement of guests as the doors bust open. I track them as they observe their ticket, longing for better seating. I observe as the better-seated glance at other better-seated, in awe and admiration, in anger and envy. I glance as they smile and hug and laugh and throw their hair back. They never stop. This is the cafeteria of high school and everyone has their place. Except for me, I am displaced.

I look, I point my humanity, I shoot. Heavenly creatures reappear on the suddenly bright room. I record moments, I share them with the world, I document it, in the way I’m told. Told by my lenses, the human lenses, creating unique perspectives, developing plots, but never deciding on an end. This story has no end, but the room does.

This room has an end, the room has a time. The room will live in glory, every once in a while. The room will be light and dark, the room will be structure and de-structure. The room will come, the room will go, but I’ll stay. I’ll stay. I’ll stay.

La La Land

The plane touched down and excitement filled the air. This was my first trip to Los Angeles, a place that existed in my dreams and was about to become a reality. The fast pace of the freeways, the palm trees – everywhere, just like the movies. My first experiences there were fun – but underwhelming. The excessive time in traffic really brought me down. I am the type of person who’s really a sucker for human connection, so to be in a place where people basically don’t utilize sidewalks unless they’re getting to their car or from the car to a building, was really jarring. Not only that, but where were all the celebrities that allegedly lived here? I mean, if people are constantly in their cars, how do you ever see them? 

My friend, who was married to a paparazzo suggested that he’d take me on a tour to show me all the houses, where all the celebs lived. Off we went, and I got to see wall after wall, gate after gate, door after door, and still, no celebrities. And no houses either. It was the most disheartening process. My dreams were being crushed. Even the paparazzi chase after James Marsden I got to witness seemed boring. Where was Julia Roberts when you needed her? 

And then, there was the nightlife, or should I say, there wasn’t. A place where clubs are required by law to close at 2a.m.? Seems excessive, but it’s the truth. I was simply not having any of it. Granted, during the day, the parks, the mountains, the beaches, all wonderful, really – the quality of life, I imagined, top of the line. If you disregard the gray fog of pollution that covers the city, of course. But all good, isn’t there pollution everywhere? Who knows, you tell yourself the fattest lies when you want to believe in certain things.

I had not given up, I was certain that LA had to be that magical place from the movies, with all the cheap glamour and phenomenal black-tie parties, packed with celebrities pretending to have a good time. That’s the place I longed for, a place of make belief.

On the following year, I was invited to attend an Oscar party, perhaps the most sought after invitation of awards season. This was a private affair, at the house of a major pop icon, no press (or cameras and social media) were allowed and the guest list was tight, only 200 of the biggest and hottest talent in the world were invited, along with some key Hollywood players. I could not believe that I was in, this was an honor. I felt as if my opportunity had finally arrived, to truly experience LA at its best, on its most important night of the year, Oscar night.

The city buzzed, all along Sunset Boulevard and wherever else there was a key party taking place, traffic was intense. None of it mattered, because the party I was attending would only really get packed after everyone was done posing for pictures at Elton John’s or Vanity Fair, this was the party where they came to throw their hair back and really have fun.

Fun was had. Oprah Winfrey grabbed me by the arm on a twirl, most likely thinking I was someone else, and very quickly moved on to pay attention to Tom Cruise. Sharon Stone, probably the most magnificent creature I had ever laid eyes on seemed bored at the music, until Puff Daddy took over the pick ups. In an attempt to actually socialize, I bummed a cigarette from Penelope Cruz, who’s dress was all ripped to shreds at this point, from all the dancing that was taking place. More than half of the women were trotting around barefooted, without a care in the world. We were all sweaty and we were all having the time of our lives. A momentary bond was created between me and Renee Zellweger, who kept trying to hit on my friend, but with no luck – he was engaged to be married. That would not be a problem, Renee and I still had the dance floor. The bathroom line was dispersed by a housekeeper who informed us the toilet was clogged. So it was true, celebrities are just like everyone else, they even clog toilets the same way.

The follow up to this brilliant night was a brunch at the iconic Fred Segal, where me and my friends would rehash stories from the night before. Sitting next to me on the curb, waiting for a table just like everybody else, was J.Lo with her BFF Leah Remini. And there it was, the moment I had been waiting for all along, the LA of my dreams had concretized.

I did not stop going back to LA ever since, two or three times every year at the very least, and I just keep on falling in love with it more and more. Over time I learned to love waking up early in the morning for a walk on the hills of Hollywood, by the iconic Hollywood sign, all the way to the stunning Griffith Observatory. Sometimes if I’m feeling adventurous, I will get in my car and go to Runyon Canyon, probably the most popular of the hikes in town. There, the occasional celebrity sighting is inevitable, my favorite being a fresh faced Kathy Griffin walking her dog up and down the rocky pathways.

With time I also learned to get over my traffic resentment. I now zip all around the city in my little rental cars. It was in LA where I had my first car crash, not in New York, the place famously known for its horrid traffic and crazy drivers. As I was parking for brunch at Laurel’s Hardware, one of the hottest brunch spots in town, a bus took half of my car along with it. Of course, this being West Hollywood, Kanye West and Kim Kardashian arrived just as I was giving my statement to the police. A very glitzy car crash indeed!

In the evening, dinner at Soho House among the likes of Al Pacino or Madeleine Stowe seems like a great choice, followed by drinks at the historic Chateau Marmont, location picked for the movie ‘Somewhere’ by Sofia Coppola and of many incredible parties, like the night where many gathered around the pool to celebrate Valentino on his last collection as the designer of his own label. And speaking of parties, it was at LACMA – Los Angeles Contemporary Museum of Art, where Rodarte threw their pre-Oscar bash a few years back. Now, I am not saying that’s the reason why you should visit, but it is definitely a place to be seen. Their art collection is exquisite and the place itself is definitely not to be missed, much like the Ghery designed Disney Auditorium, with it’s incredible architecture. Speaking of art, a visit to Prism Gallery is also essential. This gallery co-owned by the brothers xxxx is one of the hottest in the country, continually launching new talent into the top echelons of the art world. Next door is the restaurant Eveleigh, one of LA’s trendy spots where top models Carolyn Murphy, Irina Shayk and Gisele Bundchen can be seen dining alongside Mario Testino, Adam Levine or Leonardo DiCaprio.

One of my favorite places for dinner though is Pace, on Laurel Canyon – not only for its delicious menu but for the history that’s present in that area. A few doors down from the restaurant is the house that used to belong to Jim Morrison, and that street was what he used to call “love street” – made famous by the song of same name. From the balcony of his house, Jim used to watch his girlfriend coming home from work every day. The country store next door to the restaurant is where Jim, and many of his rock star friends used to go for their groceries. The basement of this store served as Mama Cass’s first apartment when she arrived, broke, in Los Angeles. What Morrison and Cass didn’t know, is that they had gone to school together, years prior to that and had never met until then. That store is “the place where creatures meet” that Jim mentions in his song because of this accidental high-school reunion. After this walk down memory lane, a trip up to Mulholland Drive is mandatory. Its winding roads took the lives of xxx and were made globally famous by David Lynch’s homonymous film. Make sure to stop at one of the overlooks to take some of the most stunning night shots of the City of Angels.

Rodeo Drive, once made famous by Julia Roberts is just another shopping spot like any other in any large metropolis, and if that’s the focal point of your trip, then you won’t be disappointed as luxury is not spared here. Don’t forget to make a stop for lunch at Ceconi’s to recharge the batteries or later on at the cafe at the Regent Beverly Wilshire, where the pretty woman and Richard Gere were staying in, in that movie. This is a magical city, infinite opportunities for entertainment, from the Walk of Fame to the seedy Venice Beach where Arnold Schwarzenegger was once made Mr. World to the Santa Monica Pier, with its traditional funnel cake and amusement park – days can be spent discovering new things in Los Angeles and the more I discover, the more I want to return. You will too.

Hat Hair

The waiter will not leave us alone, it’s like he wants us to keep ordering shit. I mean, really? What more could we order – appetizers, main courses beverages and desserts have all been pushed down our throats (basically). Does he expect us to start from the beginning again? And why would we do that? It’s not like things aren’t already bad enough. What is the deal with this silence? The staring… oy! What else can I do? He is good in the eyes, but not a lot of content behind them. 

Conversations remain in the air, floating in space, like those three bouncing balls in the text-message field when someone is allegedly typing an answer…except the answer never comes. By the way, why is that? What happened to my answer? Did it mistakenly end up in someone else’s phone and now they’re really confused wondering if they had dinner plans at 8pm that they completely forgot about? Let’s hope they didn’t, because they’re NOT in for a treat. Anyway. Back to this thing… where to go from here? 

This is that turning point, where I basically know what’s gonna happen, and there are only two options, with one outcome. Option A is that I will go home with the boy, screw his eyeballs out and then never see him again, or option B; in which he plays the prude, goes home and I never see him again. Either way, the ultimate outcome is: I never see him again. That’s totally fine, after all, can you imagine raising kids with a non-talking being? That would be complicated. “Honey, did you feed the baby?”. Text-message bouncing balls. The horror! 

He is good to look at though. Those eyes just won’t stop staring, they’re big and translucent and bright, and I really wish they could talk to me. Those eyes actually feel very much alive, they feel as if they have so much to say. They could fill two slots of the David Letterman show. Not just one of those tiny in-between interviews he does with boring physicists who are releasing some boring book about saving the planet. No one cares about saving the planet, Al Gore knows all about that. Ask him! I mean, I care about saving the planet, but I just try not to be too scandalous about it. 

Oh my God, I just realized I think I left the stove on this morning! Shit I hope the cat didn’t burn to death! Oh my God, what does that mean in terms of killing the planet? Wait… gas doesn’t kill the planet… does it? Oh I should bail on this botched date and go turn the stove off, can you imagine the electric bill? I mean gas bill. Oh, who cares it’s al the same, it comes in a bundle and no one looks at that damn thing, it’s all in auto-pay. “oh, put it in auto-pay and we will give you a discount.”. Bullshit! I don’t think anyone has ever gotten anything from putting anything in auto-pay. I certainly didn’t. I haven’t checked either, but I am sure I haven’t. 

This is one of those cases, like when I go to the supermarket and I buy plums that look really pretty and purple and shiny and big. I imagine they’ll taste like a little piece of heaven, and I don’t check the price because, well, they’re plums! How expensive can fruit be, right? And then I get to the register and the lady rings up the plums and my six purple pieces of heaven add up to somewhere north of 40 dollars. For plums! I go crazy on her, it’s absurd! “Are these plums made of Gold?” I say – she just stares at me and says “I don’t know, you’re the one who put the plums in a bag and then in your shopping cart” all while raising those big fat eyebrows in a uniform motion with the shrug. Oh these people! And who reads signs anyways? Also, you should be able to just throw shit in a bag, scan everything with your phone and walk away, check out lines are the worst!

Oh my Godddd – he’s staring at me again. And the waiter is waiting. For WHAT? Oh, thank God, it’s the check, he is waiting for my signature! Somehow the check had magically been filled out with tip and everything, God bless. He went with option B, I can’t blame him, I had a bad case of hat hair tonight anyway, that’s what happens in the winter, you get hat hair and your dates are ruined by it. No one gets lucky in the winter, because of hat hair.

Try

6:15
wake up and it feels strange
on the wrong side of the bed
coffee spill denotes nothing will change

time to try something different
wear clothes inside out

9:15
underestimated
undervalued
unapreciated
work sucks

time to try something different
put a smile on that frown

12:15
lunch is cold
scream for silence
turn the table 
make a fuss

time to try something different
burn the past
open the door to the future

time to try something different
forget insecurity

2:15
the clown is pursuing drama
that train left the station

time to try something different
time to make it new

4:15
fire the boss
yell at a deaf man
just to make sure

time to try something different
pack the bags with air
go on a mission

7:15
cat’s out the window
let him go

time to try something different
wake up
shake up the world

8 Teenage Films Inspired by Literature Classics

If you’re a film buff like me and an enthusiast of your teenage decade (like most people are), what do you do on a rainy weekend? Do you pull out a Shakespeare classic for a light read or do you dust off that old DVD from your collection for an afternoon on the couch with some snacks? If you went with the latter, you’re probably part of the 85% (totally made this percentage up, but seems about right) who would do the same. Here’s your perfect excuse (if you needed one) for some guilty-pleasure teen movie watching: films inspired by literature classics. This is a great way to get the best of both worlds. I took the liberty to expand a bit and included not only films from the 90’s – my decade – but some other gems that spilled out into the early 2000’s. Enjoy!

 

1. “Cruel Intentions” (Roger Kumble, 1999) 


Inspired by: Dangerous Liaisons, Pierre Choderlos de Laclos

 

By far, my favorite film in this list. Sarah Michelle Gellar – a.k.a. “Buffy” (to me, at least), stars in this adaptation of the French classic alongside Reese Witherspoon, Ryan Phillippe (swoon) and Selma Blair. The plot of the movie revolves around two stepsiblings who get a kick out of manipulating people and toying with their feelings. In the original piece, it’s a couple of ex-lovers who heat up the French aristocracy. If you want to take a step further, also watch the 1988 film “Dangerous Liaisons” which remains one of my favorite films of all time.

 

Side note: The soundtrack of “Cruel Intentions” also remains a staple in my music library, definitely worth a trip to iTunes in case you never listened to it. In my opinion, it’s a landmark of that time.

 

2. “She’s All That” (Robert Iscove, 1999) 


Inspired by: Pygmalion, George Bernard Shaw

 

There was a time in which the definitive teen heartthrob was Freddie Prinze Jr. Girls wanted to date him and boys wanted to copycat him (to get the girls). The plot here is simple: Zack, your average jock, places a bet with his friends that he can turn Loney – the school nerd – into a hot dateable chick. Of course he ends up falling victim to his own tricks, much like Henry Higgins, in ‘Pygmalion’. This play was also the inspiration for the movie “My Fair Lady”, starring Audrey Hepburn

 

3. “Easy A” (Will Gluck, 2010) 


Inspired by: The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

 

Not only is this awesome movie inspired by The Scarlet Letter, but it also makes use of it in the plot: the book is part of the school’s syllabus. In the movie, as in the book, our lead character is humiliated and accused of being too… open minded.

 

4. “10 Things I Hate About You” (Gil Junger, 1999) 


Inspired by: The Taming of the Shrew, William Shakespeare

 

This movie single handedly elevated Heath Ledger to superstardom. Here, Ledger brings life to Patrick, the rebellious school kid who’s every girl’s crush. In this loose interpretation of “The Taming of the Shrew” the heart of the story remains the same. Bianca is in love and wants to start dating, but is not allowed until her temperamental older sister kicks her love life into gear. A fun film to watch on any lazy day, and it never gets old.

 

5. “Clueless” (Amy Heckerling, 1995)

Inspired by: Emma, Jane Austen

 

I bet you didn’t see this one coming. Believe it or not, “Clueless” came straight from the pages of a Jane Austen book into the streets of Beverly Hills. There were some serious adaptations to make the story fit the 90’s, but the basic plot remains the same: a rich spoiled girl who loves to get involved in match making. Many names of the original Jane Austen book were used in this classic 90’s movie.

 

6. “She’s The Man” (Andy Fickman, 2006)

Inspired by: Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare

 

When Sebastian goes to London, his twin sister Viola takes the opportunity to dress like her brother and replace him in their new school, all of that in order to fulfill her dream of playing soccer with the boys. In Shakespeare’s original story, Viola loses her brother when their ship sinks and pretends to be a man in order to get help. The Duke asks for her (his) assistance to confess his love to Olivia, but it all goes wrong. Olivia falls in love with Viola (dressed as a man, obviously), and Viola falls in love with the Duke. Sounds like something I’d get myself into.

 

7. “Romeo + Juliet” (Baz Luhrmann, 1996) 


Inspired by: Romeo & Juliet, William Shakespeare

 

This is the most literal adaptation in this list. The only difference is that even though the film retains the original dialogs and a lot of the poetic language, here the story is given a much more vibrant setting, in the streets of the 90’s; ridden with gangs, guns, drugs and wild parties. The chemistry between Leo DiCaprio and Claire Danes is effervescent and remarkable and made us all dream of having a love affair as intense theirs was.

 

8. “Get Over It” (Tommy O’Haver, 2001) 


Inspired by: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare

 

In the classic Shakespeare play, four teenagers get wrapped up in a love ‘square’, thanks to the magical works of faeries and elves. Here the magical beings are set aside and the film focuses on one of the parallel plots from the original play. The reference becomes more evident when all four leads, including Kirsten Dunst’s character, take part in their school’s play, which is, roll drums… “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”.

 

Ladies & Gents: Interview with Leilani Bishop

Leilani Bishop is a household name in the modeling industry. In the nineties she became known as that healthy, smiley, surfer girl that had the all American look which the all American designers had been looking for, for so long. She became a hit in campaigns for brands such as Tommy Hilfiger and graced the pages and covers of magazines such as Vogue and Allure. The model broke boundaries and even graced the cover of the top selling record Live Through This, by the grunge band Hole, fronted by none other than Courtney Love.

After enjoying years in the spotlight, traveling around the world and collecting experiences as a model, Leilani moved back home, to her native Hawaii, where she had the bright and unique idea of starting her own line of fragrances. Unlike most famed models, Leilani took the longer route, built the company from scratch, over much work and investigation.

Leilani Bishop Fragrances is now an established and unique business in a somewhat overcrowded industry. But that doesn’t seem to worry the model turned fragrance “designer”, she’s as calm about her business as she’s always been about her career as a model. Bishop tackles one task at a time, with an ease that can only be credited to a Hawaiian upbringing. Here, the entrepreneur shares a little of her story with us.

What brought you to the idea of creating your own fragrance line, versus putting your name on a mass-produced product, like most top models and celebrities have been doing lately?

I wanted to own and create something, I love to be involved and like being able to have a say in every aspect; control freak or entrepreneur, it is a fine line! I also wanted to capitalize on my own image and persona instead of yet again representing someone else’s company, and wanted to do it on my terms so if it worked I could build a company around the line.

How complicated was it to get from the idea to the actual development of a product? 

    It took longer then I thought it would. I also learned a lot about myself and the way I operate. I have streamlined myself quite a lot from the minute I started this project 8 years ago. I am much more efficient, but still was not easy breaking into a world that is very traditional in the way it operates.

I did some research on oil fragrances and it doesn’t seem like there are many, if any, of known brand options available, most known brands opt for alcohol based, spray fragrances. The companies that do make oil scents don’t have an appealing image and seem to try to mimic other known brand scents. Even though the idea to use oil as a fragrance is not a new concept; your entire concept is certainly innovative. From the bottle, to the roll-on, to the idea of making oil fragrances a more appealing and elegant item. Did you feel that lacking I mentioned and did those factors contribute in your decision making?

     Yes! All of those aspects were a huge part of what motivated me in my decision-making. I am slightly obsessed with the Victorian age, every little thing they used down to toothpicks were elegant and made of beautiful materials. I wanted a woman to have an experience not only with the scent but with the entire image the item represents, from the beauty of the package to the sensation of rolling it on and the clean light scent of the oil.

How extensive was your research when putting together the concepts for your company and about how much time did it take you from the first time you had the idea to your actual first bottle of your own fragrance?

    It was an extensive process that spanned from start to launch seven years. I was living in Hawaii when I conceptualized the idea and so that was probably why it had a slow start. It took a while to break into the trade side of everything as it is a small industry and not many cater to small companies. I did not do much research as to what was wanted or needed though; only research on how things were executed.

In your website you teach the customer how to apply your fragrance. One would think that wearing perfume would not require instructions, but after reading the points you make in the website we wonder how could we have gone all these years without that knowledge. Where did you learn such information and was this an important differential fact you wanted to offer your customers?

    It was a conversation that came about between me and a girl that was working with me, Piper. We were discussing the differences of oil versus spray, pros and cons, and the act of rubbing your wrist together came up. Piper has extensive perfume background and has worked at big perfume houses and she enlightened me on that myth; “rubbing it in” is really destroying the fragrance. It got me interested and so we thought the consumer should be enlightened as well have a sensibility about the elegance of wearing fragrance and how, if applied incorrectly can ruin the experience entirely!  Also if applied correctly can provide fun and intrigue from start to finish!

I know you took inspiration from sensorial memory to create these three scents. Are you interested in releasing more scents in the future and perhaps even expand to men’s fragrances too?

    Yes, I will be releasing more scents, these too will have sensorial memory but of a different vein, and yes I would love to develop a men’s scent. My husband keeps bugging me so it will happen for sure, I’m just not sure when.

Being a top model I am sure you are always aware of the latest fashion trends and how those ebb and flow over the years. Are there “fragrance trends”? And if so, would you be influenced by them in your business?

    Yes, there are definitely fragrance trends and since I am always reading and curious about other businesses and want to know what is working, I am sure I am probably influenced. Yet, I have in my mind several ideas for future products and do not really care if they are “on trend” as I am confident in my Brand.

You are currently working with single note scents; have you given thought to adding elements to those or combining new ingredients for future products? Or is the single note an important part of your company’s mission statement?  

    Single not scents are not part of my mission statement, yet they are the foundation of the company, I believe. I will definitely be mixing scents though and actually am doing a project that will be out next fall, which will combine a couple of my favorite scents.

Can you give us a hint of what that project entails?

This is a candle/scent project I am doing for a new boutique hotel in South Beach, which will be opening in the Fall of 2014.

What do you feel, differentiates you the most from the other major fragrance lines? What makes you proud about your product?

    It is a niche product that feels more like a high end fragrance brand, I love that it stands on it’s own and does not feel mass produced, it has a unique quality that intrigues people before they even get to the scent as well as being Made in America. I could go on…I am so proud of my product.

How did your modeling career influence your business?

    Do you mean did the contacts I made help??  For sure, I love being able to work within my industry and be supported by those I admire. [It is] such an amazing feeling. Also being self-employed all my life gave me the hustle I needed to start my own business.

Would you consider “designing” a fragrance for a big name brand in your own standards of making perfume?

    Absolutely…would be great to have those resources to work with!

Where would you like to see your company in ten years from now?

    I would like to have expanded my fragrance line to include more oils and high-end fragrances that include special projects and collaborations with artists as well as adding a line of skin/beauty products including candles and perhaps even a small capsule collection to go with each season. Ten percent of the net will go towards supporting women and special projects.

Unusual Names and Number One Hits

Madonna and Lady Gaga occupy colossal space in the cultural spectrum.  One is named after a saint, the other after a Queens song.  Few would question the impact these artists have had on pop music and, frankly, like Prince and others before them, their high-octane names can’t hurt their evolutionary power.  So, why can’t these women get along?   

Both of them have been the topic of a much discussed feud.  The first one, a staple in pop culture for over 30 years.  The second one, a more ambiguous but equally explosive presence in the pop scene.  But let’s face it: Madonna is a tough act to follow.  While Madge is the reigning Queen of Pop, there seems to be a general consensus that Lady Gaga is after her throne.  Whether a dethroning is underway or not is not the point. Their unique and explosive impact on our lives makes them kindred artistic spirits.

Madonna is a tough act to follow because she ignited conversations many moons ago, and has continued to do so year after year. Raising awareness to hot topics like women’s rights, gay rights, political and religious freedom, and among many other things, above all, freedom to express yourself, in any way you’d like; Madonna pushed buttons.  From the start, Madonna climbed to the top of pop culture’s Pantheon and there was no argument, she was a phenomenon, she was the Queen of Pop.

Decades later, when Lady Gaga came on the scene, she was too admittedly greatly influenced by the works of the pop diva.  But there hadn’t been anything as fresh and groundbreaking as Madonna in all that time. There hadn’t been anyone willing to expose their creative insanity in order to ignite controversy, bust open taboos, and once again challenge tired social mores. 

And even though Madonna’s fan base is huge, there are new kids on the block (no pun intended) who have no concept of what the material girl has done for them, kids who don’t understand the difficult fights she was instigating.  Somehow, she made it unscathed.  But she was the first one, and perhaps that is why she was able to push the envelope every time and still come out a winner on the other side.  She was selling records and concerts, but she was also changing lives along the way.

Like Madonna, Lady Gaga aims to reach a wider audience, even though it doesn’t seem like her work translates as well.  Her approach at times too far out and on the verge of desperation, she seems to be stuck within her “monsters”, the majority of them members of the LGBT community, like me.  But she is, unquestionably, breaking new ground, blowing apart boundaries and educating an entirely new generation.  Let’s hope her monster base expands along with her message.  

Elton John greatly criticized Madonna, instigating brawls in the media.  But why?  What is the goal of this man, who did too, revolutionized thoughts and invited discussions.  Shouldn’t he know better and just let artists do what they do best, and let them continue to create thought provoking work in whatever way they please?  And I will go even further now.  If there is a feud between Madonna and Lady Gaga, shouldn’t the two of them also know better?  It’s not about who came first or who is the Queen of Pop, but it’s about their work and the message they are trying to convey.

Even though many will argue that we should not have to deal with a “message” and just be able to enjoy the music and have fun, there is still a message. The goal of these women is in great part to affect change, to make people think in a broader spectrum and to open their minds to different possibilities; each of these women in essence have proclaimed these same goals.  They talk about inclusion and acceptance of others, so why aren’t they more accepting of each other, since they are both working towards the same objectives?

Madonna will not lose her throne. Lady Gaga will eventually have to refresh and find new ways, because the regurgitation of ideas passed will get tired. Madonna has remained a staple in the cultural consciousness because she so cleverly reinvented herself and addressed topics from different perspectives.  She has kept it fresh.  Along the way, she made it possible for me and many other people I know to be who we are and to be proud and vocal about it, with no fear of consequences.  Lady Gaga’s staying power remains to be seen.  Each generation needs its muse and it is in this spirit of cultural evolution that I sincerely hope Lady Gaga has the same lasting impact on the new kids that Madonna has had on me.

There is still a long way to go in this world, but it’s greatly because of people like Madonna and Lady Gaga that we are able to evolve openly and accept each other as beautiful and flawed human beings that we are.

Master Class

It is pure delight to listen to someone very accomplished share their life experiences. That is why an old episode of Oprah’s Master Class really interests me. The other night I was struck by something that was said on that show. It was not a novel idea or something that I didn’t already know, but something I hadn’t really heard so clearly said by someone so successful, like Goldie Hawn. The main point was that we should always pay it forward, no matter how much or how little we have in life. We each have our blessings, in different shapes and forms. That was it. Simple concept, right?

What went on to be discussed, and what I pondered extensively, was that most people in the world today are obsessed with their own lives. It’s all about “will I get a promotion? Where can I park my car? How can I cross the street faster? How can I make more money?” So on, and so forth. People spend a great deal of time obsessing about how to get ahead, rather then actually doing something that’s good for the person standing next to them or to the world as a whole.

In the movie Pay It Forward (Warner Bros. 2000), a young boy comes up with a concept that for every generous act done to him, he must pay forward with three generous acts to three different people, and tell each one of them, to do the same for three others. A simple concept that could make peoples lives that much better and as a ripple effect create a psychic change in entire communities and then possibly in the world. Somehow that concept did not catch on.

Most people make lame excuses instead of paying forward. “I don’t make enough money to make donations, why should I give money to this cause when it’s the government’s job to take care of this issue?” And it goes on, one after the next. But the point here is not how much money can you give back, or how much time you have to dedicate to doing volunteer work; it’s how do you behave in society, in your daily life? How do your daily actions affect the world that surrounds you? And then maybe, depending on who you are, what job you have and how much money you make, what type of bigger contributions can you make to the betterment of the world?

I have worked with many successful models and artists in the entertainment industry. Over the years I have come across many generous souls who have contributed to a plethora of causes. I have also met many who simply go through life as if it was a party, with no consequences and no interest in doing anything for anyone else. One of my most inspiring muses is one of my most loyal clients, a successful model who has always worked extremely hard for obtaining success. Proportionally at the same time, this girl has always taken a portion of her time (and her earnings) to apply towards charity, volunteer work and political lobbying to change the roots of the problems. Her goal, from the very start, when nobody knew her name, was to achieve fame so that she could leverage change. She had made a conscious decision that if she was going to give up university to a life of globetrotting under the spotlight, then it better be worth it. She has, to some extent, accomplished all that.

The story illustrates that we must always give back. We must always pay it forward, in any scale that we can. It’s from those little acts, of holding the elevator to the person who is running a little behind to making a five dollar donation to a homeless shelter (or whatever else interests you) or giving a lecture on what you’re an expert on to those who wish to learn. A little help goes a long way in our world today. 

People who give something back and share their fortunes with the world, generally live a much happier and fuller life. What I didn’t know when I was younger and I know now, is that by giving myself to others I find real fortune. Happiness lives in honest altruism. The idea that I could go through life not giving anything in return for all the good that came to me is daunting. 

My dreams truly blossomed and concretized after I started giving myself away to others and also discovered I could learn and let my life be enriched by each and every one of these encounters. There is so much we can learn from day to day life, but it takes an open mind to see it and an open heart to understand it.

The real master class is not on Oprah Winfrey’s network, it is all around us.

Deviled Eggs with Heather Graham

Perhaps it was the abundant steak tartare or the ever-flowing Grey Goose; regardless, the scene at the Clarkson in the West Village was very fun and social, sheer joy and camaraderie abounded. The crowd gathered to celebrate the New York premiere for the gut-wrenching film At Any Price, directed by the talented Ramin Bahrani.    

As intense as this film is however, after the credits rolled in there was no somberness to these celebrants. The model Leigh Hoby walked in to a swarm of photographers who treated her like this film’s featured star; which she is not. The real star in this picture is the unforgettable Heather Graham. Even though one was wearing white and the other one black, the similarities were rather compelling. Without skipping a beat, a group of photographers made sure to put the two together for a portrait. Perhaps a friendship will blossom? Zac Efron, Adrian Grenier and Dennis Quaid observed from a safe distance and chuckled cheerfully with delight. Nat Wolff was the life of the party, flanked by his pals Heather Matarazzo and Josh Radnor. Andie Arthur exuded sweetness in her long black gown and leather jacket, a look that seemed effortless but not many could pull off.  

The night resumed smoothly and soon enough a dance-floor was requested – no Cinderellas in sight here! An expert was called into action. Amy Sacco gathered a crew in a swift wave of her nocturnal magic wand and in two heartbeats they were all at No. 8. The heat in the mezzanine went up as the group could not stop the dancing. From disco to rock n’ roll, it all seemed to fit in the impeccable repertoire.  

Peter Beard surfaced from a dark corner escorted by a tall and impressive man. “Where is Amy!?” – he interrogated. “I’m alive, and look at who I have with me!”. Amy appears with the statuesque Native American model Jade Tenholder – a rarity in this world – who just broke into the scene. After much back and forth on whether Peter could take pictures of his new muse upstairs, it was finally decided: “I wanna shoot you in Mozambique, you are the best thing that happened to me this year!”.  

On that note the night came to a closing, after all, who needs any more than that?