A Congressional Encounter

In honor today of Minnesota's second Senator (finally), I have decided to recount (pun intended) my first and only meeting with the junior Senator Franken. While brief, it was memorable.

Last summer, while working for a small rural newspaper, I was asked to sit in on an interview with the then-plain-Mr. Franken and take pictures. He was stopping through for some reason or another, and offered to talk with us. My editor thought it would be fun for me to sit in and listen, and also take some of the pressure off the reporter writing the story by letting her focus on her questions and note-taking while I snapped away candid shots (or as candid as you can be in a conference room). I was excited to get to meet him and sit in on what would no doubt be an interesting conversation.

As a disclaimer, the following impressions come from a purely journalistic and professional perspective, not a political or personal one. The reason I say that is because the whole experience was terribly strange.

First, I introduced myself and informed him and his handler I would be taking pictures while he was answering questions. He said that was fine, and then mispronounced my name. My name is two syllables, fairly common, not hard to pronounce, so I was a little taken aback. I corrected him, so he apologized, again mispronouncing my name. I was going to let it go, but the look of shock on my face (I promise, no one has ever mispronounced my name, first or last) led his handler to pronounce my name to him again. He looked at her, questioned my name, getting it wrong again, and then finally, after another correction from the handler, got it right. Well. Now that we've got the names down, let's start the interview.

To give him some credit, he was a very interesting person. When the reporter could get him off the subject of badgering Norm (we didn't want to have to call the Coleman camp for a response on this piece), he had some insightful thoughts and clearly laid out his plans for office. When it came to picture-taking, well, that was more of a task. The first picture he stopped what he was saying to look directly at the camera and smile. I excused it, and politley told him I was taking candid shots and he should pretend like I wasn't there. In the end, the first picture was the only decent one I could get. The camera must have made him very uncomfortable, because with every click he shifted in his chair and got a disturbed look on his face. Even kind of creepy.

Finally, the interview was over. The reporter and I showed him out of the office, and while walking to the door Mr. Franken proceeded to put his arm around me in a sort of "half-hug" that I was shocked to receive. It was very uncomfortable, even the reporter did a double-take. Maybe he was trying to apologize, maybe he thought a hug would get him a vote, but either way, it lacked professionalism and created an awkward situation. Thankfully, he soon walked out the door.

And so, although I didn't know it at the time, that was my first, only, and probably last encounter with the former-comic-turned-Senator. Short, but not so sweet.

Where were you?

I was sitting at Happy Hour at Brits. I was in a bar when I heard the King of Pop died. And good thing too. The death of Michael Jackson deserved a toast (or five).

The regularly planned schedule of this blog was supposed to be a recounting of the HH with some fun new friends, but really the only thing that comes to mind about my night is thinking how weird it is that Michael Jackson doesn't exist in the same world I do anymore.

It's not that he had a huge effect on my life, or that I listened to his music everyday, or that I even really respected him all that much (the child abuse turns me off).

But, I will never forget my high school marching band's rendition of Thriller, out on the football field, and even the tubas were dancing along.

Met Gala and My First Post

Since registering this URL and creating my Twitter feed, I have struggled with how to start my blog. Blogging block? I suppose so. 

However,  last night finally provided me the material I had been waiting for! The Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute Gala for their new exhibit "The Model As Muse" provided more than enough fodder for a first post. 

What's a better way to start off a blog on the life of a socialite than a re-cap of one of the biggest events of the season so far? A fashion critique of the red-carpet of course!  

Here's the good (few), the bad (more), and the ugly (truly terrifying): 

The Good:

Anne Hathaway in her Marc Jacobs dress looks truly stunning walking up the red-carpet stairs. The hair, make-up, and keeping the gorgeous dress the focus (i.e. not bogging herself down with accessories) all combined to make her one of the best-looking celebs at the ball.

Caroline Herrera in her own design looks... appropriate. What a well-aged woman.

Victoria Beckham, also wearing Marc Jacobs, was her usual posh self in this polka-dot dress. Not that she couldn't have pulled off a lime-green maxi with a feather in her hair if she'd wanted. Jealous much?

Unfortunately that was it for the good. Moving on...

The Bad:

Diane Kruger, wearing Chanel Haute Couture, isn't quite bad enough to qualify as ugly, but definitely qualifies as "interesting". I'm not sure how I feel about wearing your garden, but I do appreciate the nice contrast of the white dress and black accessories.

Out of all the scantily-clad ladies I saw riffling through the pictures, Ciara, wearing Pucci,

was the most classy. But do I detect a hint of crack? Ewwwww.

Kristin Dunst, wearing a Chanel Haute Couture curtain, just looks awful. I hate to hate on Chanel, but this was just wretched.

And finally...

THE UGLY:

The Emanuel Ungaro dress isn't so bad, but Maggie Rizer's hair and make-up is essentially non-existent. The fresh look can only go so far...

Hilary Swank, wearing Calvin Klein, is just all all wrong. The lack of shape in both dress and hair makes for a frumpy, "I tied on my bed sheet as I left" look. Togas are for frat parties, not the Met.

Emma Roberts in Versace Atelier reminds me of the girls who made their prom dresses out of duct-tape. Funny in high-school, not high society.

 

It is Madonna. Dress by Louis Vuitton. Nothing more on that.

Cindy Crawford, wearing a Versace gown, could not have chosen a worse dress for the occasion. Not only does the slit scream trashy, but the blue, blue, blue is all wrong, wrong, wrong for her skin tone. It is tight in all the wrong places. And her hair. Oh her hair.

Finally, ending the travesty that was fashion at the Met last night: The Gossip Girl Tragedy.

While  being admired by millions of Americans for the high-fashion in their show, this is how they dress themselves? I was very disappointed to see borderline nakedness from Blake Lively, in Versace, and the crazy 80's throwback in Leighton's Louis Vuitton ensemble. Tacky? I think so.

All images are from WWD if you would like to take a look. What do you think? Fashion Forward or Fashion Faux Pas?