The Happy Grownup

I say this with love. Jean-Georges Vongerichten is such a glutton. What does this celebrated, evidently insatiable chef talk about when we were having lunch? What and where he’s going to eat dinner? Jean-Georges now has 60, yes, 60 restaurants in such disparate locales as Bora Bora, Shanghai, Qatar, Sao Paulo, Dublin, and next year he’s planning on opening at least half a dozen more. He is 68 years old, and as far as he is concerned, “I think I’m just getting started.” Many high-profile chefs now spend as much time on the Food Network or TikTok as they do in their own kitchens, not this guy. Remember the commotion Tom Brady generated when he cloned his dog? Well, someone may have done him one better. Last year, in just two weeks, I dined at Nougatine, JoJo, Perry Street, abc Kitchen, and The Inn at Pound Ridge, and guess who came out of the kitchen to say “Hi?” Is Jean-Georges the first cloned human? His enthusiasm, devotion, curiosity, skill, and versatility is so formidable and so effusive that there is no way his son Cedric would not follow his lead, no matter how much his dad tried to dissuade him from such a grueling profession. The younger Vongerichten is now 45, and he already has 10 restaurants to his name.Cedric admits, I think it’s going to take me a while to catch up to dad. However, dad thinks “He is doing just fine. He may catch up to me…if I ever slow down.”

When I was growing up, watching the news meant you had one hour early in the evening. One half hour of local news at 6, national news at 6:30, both delivered by a select group of white men in what looked like dark gray suits because color TV wasn’t popular yet, relaying the day’s events with sonorous solemnity. Where were the women? There weren’t any. Well, not exactly. There were a few females on air, though way past puberty, they were called weather girls. No, they were not meteorologists. They were pageboard young ladies in tasteful shifts with perky voices and perpetual smiles who gave you the forecast in three brief minutes before they signed off with cheering non-sequiturs like “have a happy!” and conveying all the gravitas of a stewardess or a car hop on roller skates. I don’t know of a single intelligent woman who wanted to grow up to be one. It wasn’t until the 1960s that gutsy women like Barbara Walters, Nancy Dickerson, Dorothy Fuldheim, Diane Sawyer (who, by the way, started as a weather girl) and Melba Tolliver fought like infantrymen to carve a respected place in television news. My guess is these are the women that Deborah Roberts wanted to be when she grew up. She’s done a hell of a job staking her claim at ABC news. She has spent the last 30 years both in-studio as a host of 20/20 and in the field covering major events both globally and nationally: the AIDS crisis in Africa, the plight of Rwandan refugees, the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona, the aftermath of the Gulf War, and captivating interviews with women who matter to her, and should to us, like Rosa Parks, and a feisty woman named Michelle Obama who was reluctantly thrust into the spotlight when her husband tossed his hat into the presidential ring. It all sounds so serious, but Deborah Roberts is charming, warm, dedicated and a role model. She dresses great, and she is one half of a marvelous couple because her husband is the nicest man on morning television, Al Roker. She’s been doing this a long time, other women in her place might have thought of retirement, and unless she’s holding out on me, Deborah Roberts doesn’t seem to have any interest in stopping, and that’s why I’m so glad to see her here on The Happy Grownup.

After 30 years of covering fashion, I don't think I've ever met anyone who doesn't know Jeffrey Banks. More importantly, I don't know anyone who doesn't like Jeffrey Banks. I almost don't even know how that's possible, but his attitude, his energy, his outlook is consistently positive. What's more, unlike so many other strivers in the industry who are so desperate to make their mark that they would sooner test the boundaries and garner the press that outrageousness usually commands. Jeffrey has been an unwavering advocate of pragmatism, relevance, and timelessness. Fashion is a fool's crush when the rush lasts no longer than a moment. Jeffrey's passion, however, is devoted to fashion that lasts, that always looks right, but never betrays or overshadows the individual. The people he has worked with, collaborated with, and written about, Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, Norman Norell, Patricia Underwood, Perry Ellis, Isaac Mizrahi, all share the same mission. Design great clothes that enhance rather than upstage, that swath you in authority, radiate class and self-awareness, and that readily become permanent wardrobe staples because you will always wear them with confidence. What I like about Jeffrey is how he never forgets the past and is always excited about the future. To prove that point, having just turned a no wait as he looks 70, he has just launched two projects that celebrate his ability to look both ways. Banks' newest book, Storyteller, harvests his natural and enviable ability to convey deliciously gossipy, wry and insightful tales from his rich and varied career, as well as the parade of fascinating people he has met along the way. Proving that there is never a last act, as long as you were eager to start another one, Jeffrey Banks is launching a brand new clothing line. One slightly unexpected and more carefree than the elegant classic silhouette he is known for. I am delighted to have Jeffrey joining us so that we can look back together, we can look forward together, and we could look right now at how a master arbiter of style assesses how fashion has and will fit into our lives.

Thirty years ago I walked into Le Cirque, back when it was the chicest restaurant in New York, when anyone who was anyone, or wanted to be anybody, would jockey for position to be seated and be seen. The marvelous Daniel Boulud was the chef then, Sirio Maccioni, the owner, was the ultimate restaurateur. But Sirio wasn’t at the front desk that afternoon. Instead, I was greeted by a most uncommon woman. Unlike most demure coquettish haute hostesses of the era, she was statuesque, she was imposing and she stood erect as a cadet in a sleek back pantsuit, standing almost eye to eye and I’m six foot four. As she said hello with an easy smile, speaking in a forthright alto while radiating an aura that informed you that the word shy has never been used in her presence. ”Sirio, who the heck is that?” I ask, because she sure as hell ain’t no hostess. “She’s very special”, replied Sirio. “She’s here to help us. I think she’d be good.” And then he asked, “Do you want to meet her?”  So began my friendship with Elizabeth Blau. Under the auspices of Steve Wynn, Elizabeth transformed Las Vegas near single-handedly from the land of all-you-can-eat buffets to a great food town. She beguiled chefs from all around the globe to join her first at the Bellagio and then at the Wynn. After forming Elizabeth Blau and Associates, she and her husband, Chef Kim Canteenwalla, created unique dining experiences in Vancouver, then Dallas, and now they traverse the globe consulting for anyone who wants to satisfy the five senses with food. This year, Elizabeth was shortlisted for a Foodie Oscar: Outstanding Restaurateur by the James Beard Foundation. Dining with Elizabeth and Kim at their restaurant, Honey Salt in Las Vegas is all the proof I need to prove my point. Elizabeth’s insight and nurturing spirit drives her ever growing consultancy towards success because she has a singular goal. Your restaurant, your bakery, or you catering company will have lines out the door if and only if along with great dishes on the menu, you serve and bring people joy. After our first meeting, Mr. Maccioni said to me, “Elizabetta, she is special, no?” She sure as hell is.

Jackie Camacho is my new skincare guru. A mutual friend introduced us, she sent me her line — Cible, one of the most exciting French skincare brands to arrive on this side of the Atlantic — and two weeks later, the difference in my skin was not subtle. It was, frankly, startling. Jackie came up through SkinCeuticals, one of the most hallowed names in dermatological skincare, which tells you everything about her standards. But what makes her genuinely rare is this: she's as fluent in the affordable as she is in the aspirational. She knows what's worth the splurge, what works just as well for a fraction of the price, and — most importantly for those of us over 50 — what our skin actually needs right now.

I don't know about you, but I find Andy Cohen irritating. Who the hell smiles that much? It doesn't matter whether he's standing in Times Square, freezing his butt off on New Year's Eve. Sitting in the middle of a dozen freshly tucked, cleavage bearing women, talking and tossing trash on Real Housewives reunions, or fairly bouncing out of his host chair on Watch What Happens, baiting Hillary Clinton to diss Ted Cruz, playing ‘Never Have I Ever ‘with Mary J. Blige, or gushing over his buddy Sarah Jessica Parker's new boots. There is that ubiquitous, shit-eating, yet absolutely irresistible grin. Why is this man so fucking happy all the time? Why? Because Andy Cohen is living his life and loving every minute of it. Producer, talent scout, entrepreneur, talk show and podcast host, best-selling author, gay activist, Father Confessor to Bravo's ever-growing coast-to-coast, Our Lady of Restylane congregation and real life father of two, no one works harder at being cheeky, impish, charming, and omnipresent than Andy Cohen. And though he's been in broadcasting for over three decades, the youthful looking 57-year-old's not slowing down. The world of reality television is tricky because it looks easier than it is, because it often zeroes in on people behaving badly, because it gets dismissed as pandering, coarse, trashy, staged. Cohen laughs it off, remaining its most fervent cheerleader and champion, satisfied in knowing that his version of it entertains millions, that it's fun, and that it's harmless, no matter what Gloria Steinem thinks. Plus it makes you forget your own tsuris, if only for an hour. And no one is better at creating and sustaining it than today's Happy Grownup guest. But unlike most of his previous, numerous interviews, I am are not going to focus on Aviva throwing her prosthetic leg, Teresa turning over the table, or Angie vomiting on the yacht. This Happy Grownup hour is going to be all about Andy Cohen.

The Happy Grownup came about because while I knew the years were flying (at this stage, Time is driving a McLaren like an F1 qualifier) but I couldn’t understand why I didn’t look or feel like I thought I would at this age.  I mean, yeah, the mirror made it clear that I was on a bridge way too far from 37, (my perfect imagined age), but rather than taunting me, it agreed with me. I looked damned good! Then why I didn’t see people like myself on TV or in print ads? Instead, we only showed up to illustrate erectile dysfunction, to try on Depends, and to buy reverse mortgages. The marketplace didn’t appear eager to satisfy my taste and reap my cash, even though I’m more likely to afford the luxuriant car, the vicuna coat, the African safari, and the $300 anti-aging cream. Was I the only one who felt attention must be paid?  I am so glad I found Sari Botton. Thanks to her Oldster newsletter, I know I am not alone. This intrepid and insightful journalist, essayist, and best-selling author, who was recently featured in a beautiful profile in the New York Times, has created a platform that, like Grownup, spotlights, welcomes, and encourages writers, personalities, and anyone with focus and self-determination a place to celebrate all of us who still believe we have more to see, more to enjoy, and more to do.  Oldster, which Sari began in 2021, is now published four times a week as a much-needed forum for every New Ager who wants to know more about what is and isn’t possible to share ideas, reveal challenges, and find a way forward. This past February, I had the pleasure of taking the Oldster questionnaire, which is way more intense than either Vanity Fair’s or Stephen Colbert’s. And it was a delight to share and compare my observations with such previous questionnaire guests as John Irving and Rosie O’Donnell. I don’t have a questionnaire to give out. So that’s why I asked Sari Botton to join me today so that we can celebrate, pontificate, agitate and instigate how to enjoy growing older together.

I have had a crush on Vanessa Williams for…oh, a little over 40 years. I know this sounds astounding now, but back in the ‘80s over 55 million people watched the Miss America pageant and my family never missed it. It was like this well-dressed, benign version of Survivor all in one night: parading beautiful young women, each representing their home state, vying for lucrative college scholarships. But in order to do so, they had to wear gowns, strut around the stage in high heels and a bathing suit and answer pontificatingly inane questions that somehow always ended up in hoping for world peace. But it was the talent portion that really fascinated me. There were ladies playing piano, playing marimba, accordion, even the cups, monologues from plays, tap dancing, baton twirlers, fire dances, women walking on glass. Two of my favorites were Miss America 1961, Nancy Ann Fleming, her talent was she showed several different ways to pack a suitcase for the weekend, and Vonda Kay Van Dyke, Miss America 1965, who was not a half bad ventriloquist. But rarely was there someone with any real talent. And then in 1984, Miss New York State, this stunning 20-year-old Black American woman sang a version of Happy Days Are Here Again with an arrangement similar to Barbra Streisand’s groundbreaking interpretation of the song. She was goddamn good! Like, Broadway-bound good! And that’s how Vanessa Williams became Miss America in 1984. She was smart. She had poise. Her politics was startlingly aligned with the way young America thought. And it turns out she was incredibly tough.  That toughness has led Vanessa to more comebacks than most people get in a lifetime, except she never calls them a comeback because to her, she never actually went away. She’s had a bestselling book. She has had top records. She’s been on Broadway and Into the Woods and Kiss of the Spider Woman. I see her in everything. We loved her on Desperate Housewives. We loved her even more on Ugly Betty. She’s sung at the Super Bowl. She’s sung at the Oscars. When people ask you what’s one of my favorite holiday memories, I tell them I went Christmas shopping with Vanessa Williams because that’s how I did my Egg magazine interview with her. Vanessa is now the toast of London. where she is starring in Elton John’s smash hit musical adaptation of The Devil Wears Prada, which may never get to New York because the damn thing just keeps getting extended. And now I have saved the best for last because she is with me here on The Happy Grownup and I couldn’t be more delighted.

Why do I love talking to Dana Thomas? Because she knows more about fashion than just about anybody but doesn’t ever gush about clothes with inane commentary like, “She’s killing it!” “Now that’s red carpet realness!,” or “I die!” Instead Dana is refreshing and candid. She can reveal the elusive way designers instigate desire, explain how a growing trend gets marketed, highlight the industry’s influence on our everyday lives, and tell you why looking good matters more than any of us wants to admit. With pragmatic and witty insight, Dana fascinates when analyzing the times fashion’s designers, editors, execs, retailers and consumers work together in harmony as well as when they explode in clashing dissonance. I could talk to her for days.

Why do Oprah Winfrey, Jennifer Lopez, David Beckham, Eva Longoria, Justin Bieber, Kim Kardashian, Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Michelle Pfeiffer, as well as tens of millions of women and men who want to look in the mirror and smile at their own reflection, adore Anastasia Soare?  Because 25 years ago, this lovely, poised, and determined Romanian émigré came to Los Angeles not able to speak the language, but knowing something the rest of us didn't, that shaping one's eyebrows could dramatically, sometimes breathtakingly, enhance one's appearance in 10 minutes. Oh, everyone knows that now. But that's because Anastasia Soare showed them how it's done. And that's why her brand, AnastasiaBeverly Hills, is a multi-billion dollar global beauty phenomenon. And that's why she has gotten used to being called the undisputed queen of brows. But that's not the only reason why I adore Anastasia. In fact, when we launched The Happy Grown Up a year ago, I was thrilled to have her as one of my first guests. I've known the lady for over 20 years, and yet for all of her facial wizardry, the reason why I find her so irresistible is her unflagging self-possession, her resolute belief in her own vision, her commitment to her mission, her insatiable curiosity to know more, to share more, and to relentlessly convince us that everyone is blessed not only with their own individual stamp of beauty, but with the power to fulfill their fondest dreams. And today, I welcome Anastasia back to The Happy Grown-Up because she has chronicled her story, her incredible drive, and her uplifting spirit in print. Her new book, Raising Brows, has become an instant bestseller, not just because Oprah christened it as a revelation and a joy to read, but it's also because her pursuit of innovation and self-satisfaction is a memoir so inspirational that it makes you question why you would ever doubt going for your own dreams. Her message is simple and clear. Go for it. Full throttle. Never take your eyes off the prize. Never doubt yourself or be stifled by doubters. And always know that tomorrow gives you another day to make your life better. Raising Brows is a book that insists that happiness thrives when you are the biggest cheerleader of your own life. So I just had to have her here. Welcome Anastasia back because with all the chatter and nonsense crashing around us. We need her positivity and joyful noise more than ever.