I was one of those kids who—instead of riding my bike until after dark and drinking out of a garden hose—ran around annoying people on public transportation and went to clubs like Studio 54 with my friends even though we were just 14. That’s the New York City version of the GenX childhood mix of danger and mostly benign parental neglect. I was the responsible one who didn’t partake and made sure no one got in too deep, but yeah, dumb. I went to the United Nations school and then to Bronx Science and then to Wesleyan in Middletown, CT.
After college I had no clue what to do, knowing only that I didn’t want to have to wear panty hose to a job. I wound up applying to work at Conde Nast (where you could wear what you wanted, as long as it was amazing.) I was fired from Glamour after three weeks as an assistant to a nightmare woman (think the Devil Wears Prada, minus that level of authority.)
From then on, I chose jobs based on whether my boss seemed like a nice person and the people I would get to spend time with. It has served me well and I have worked at many major women’s magazines, almost always with excellent, smart, curious, talented people who, like me, are trying to roll with the changes to the media industry.
I am mom to twins, Willow and Vivian. Willow is a drag performer and visual artist, and Viv is a writer and a senior at Sarah Lawrence. I live with my partner of 14ish years, Steve, and my soulmate, Smokey the schnauzer. We are all in New York City.