Tag Archives: Julie Seyler

No More Minis

14 Monday Sep 2015

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Bad knees bent mask the crepe

Bad knees bent mask the crepe

BY JULIE SEYLER

Have you noticed that people have good knees and bad knees? Or are knees completely off the radar screen of interesting body parts?

FYI, a bad knee has a crepe-y fold over appearance with a bit of puckering around the edges. To my knowledge there is no cure for bad knees. Unlike arms with a droop, where one can tether themselves to a weight lifting machine and do tricep curls ad infinitem, bad knees are incurable. Unless, perhaps, a botox injection would help plump them up.

The knee issue entered my consciousness because I am surrounded by lovely young ducks that prance the streets of Manhattan in the most adorable of thigh-high dresses and skirts. That used to be me. And then at about 57, I took note of some changes in knee action, (as well as a few other things), and adjustment started. Not that I do not don shorts, it’s just on a restricted schedule: to the beach and bbqs in my backyard.

And to be clear, I am not mourning that minis are off my radar screen because I am no longer in that age bracket of “young”. No I am simply remarking on the cliche that nothing stays the same. Who thought at 30 or 40 or even 50 that mini skirts or sleeveless shirts might have a finite lifespan in the closet?

However, I ought to quit worrying over the physical appearance of my knees and give thanks to my cartilage! At the moment no knee replacement appears to be in the offing. On the other hand, maybe that would provide an opportunity for a little nip and tuck on the pucker?

The Unexpected: A Bigger Nose

24 Monday Aug 2015

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A bigger nose

BY JULIE SEYLER

We have a subscription to AARP Magazine. When I first signed up, (what was it, 5 years ago?), it was an uncomfortable fit. Now it’s a part of where I am at this stage of my life, plus it contains all sorts of invaluable information, from tips on negotiating social security to determining whether a lifetime annuity plan is a good financial option.

Viola Davis was on the cover of the August/September issue and the headlines begged to be read:

BEST. SEX. EVER! We show you how.

GET THAT RAISE

MYSTERIES OF THE BODY EXPLAINED

I jumped to MYSTERIES OF THE BODY EXPLAINED.

The scientific explanation behind the changes we get to anticipate while going through the aging process is fascinating and logical. The unstoppable physical metamorphosis is disappointing. Pragmatically, it’s going to make looking fabulous and ensuring you are smell-less challenging tasks.

Uncontrollable urine squirts
Unfixable bad breath
Green toenails as thick as a brick
Sulfur smelling feet
Jimmy Duante’s nose
More farts

At least we are all in it together.

Hip Joint, Ornery Bartender

27 Monday Jul 2015

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Elixirs on the bar at Santina.

Elixirs on the bar at Santina.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I went out with two friends for a schmooz and a cocktail after work last Thursday. We met at one of the latest of the super hip joints that is contributing to the transformation of what was once a district devoted to raw meat and butchers to one that is still devoted to raw meat- just the classier type of beautiful men and women all perfectly manicured and decked to charm and slay.

We were lucky because having scored corner seats at the bar, we were impervious to the continuous jostle of bodies seeking position. We had a round of drinks and I was in the mood for a glass of a dry white wine.

I looked up to beckon the bartender and saw that he was just finishing with a customer, and as he turned in my direction he started a conversation with his co-worker bartender. They chatted, and when he again looked at me I hand-signaled to please come here. He sauntered over, stared me in the eyes and said

Do Not Wave At Me!

I smiled at the brilliant absurdity. Here I was asking for a drink from a bartender and I was being reprimanded because I “asked” with my hands. So it was logical to inquire what was the proper protocol in a situation like this. The mighty Oz speaketh:

You should say “Excuse me”, and when I have a minute I will come and attend to you.

Here lies the lesson: the privilege of paying $14 for a mini-pour does not guarantee the privilege of actually being a guest of the bar. And to think the only rule I learned was never throw an olive at a bartender’s head.

As yet, it remains possible to find down-to-earth bars scattered throughout the city, but with Manhattan’s ever evolving spin into a glass dome for the super rich, I do not know how long that will hold true.

An Unexpected Perk to Being Right of 59

21 Tuesday Jul 2015

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Salvation Taco Rooftop Bar

Salvation Taco Rooftop Bar

BY JULIE SEYLER

Last Friday night, my way-left-of-59 office buddy and I headed over to Salvation Taco on East 39th Street for an after work cocktail. We had been there once before when she had taken me out for a pre-wedding fete. That night it had been pouring rain so we skipped the rooftop bar. But last Friday evening was exquisite. Drinking a chilled and salted margarita at a facsimile of a Mexican patio high above the streets of Manhattan was enticing.

We arrived and saw a line of Raybanned millennials hanging about the entrance and a hostess taking names.  We bypassed the crowd and walked through the glass doors to the elevator.

There was a sign posted “See Hostess for Rooftop Bar.”

We looked at each other and got in the elevator and emerged to see the cloudless blue 6:00 sky and started to head in. We were stopped by a bouncer.

“Let me see your stamp”.

“What stamp?”

“The stamp you get downstairs from the hostess to come up to the rooftop bar. You have to go back down and get stamped.”

We really did not have the time to trek back down to the ground floor, wait on line and then wait to go up. So I did the next best thing. I looked that bouncer straight in her unwrinkled eye and said sweetly,

Look, I’m old. Please let us in?

She saw there was some truth to that statement and kindly replied

Go on in.

That margarita tasted sooo piquantly delicious because being almost 60 had delivered an unexpected perk: entrance into an overpacked happy hour.

Potatoes Redux

13 Monday Jul 2015

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POtato displayBY JULIE SEYLER

On April 20, 2013, Lo and I made plans to buy a variety of potatoes and cook them and write about them. We did.

I just came across the pictures I took that day (April 20, 2013), attempting to capture the lushness of the color, the pleasure in the arrangement, the curiosity about the taste.

We paired them with sprigs of fresh rosemary:

purple potatoes and rosemary

and garlic chives:

Chive potatoes garlic chives 1

Glazed them with olive oil, roasted them for two hours at 400 degrees, and returned to glistening pans of roasted red, purple and white potatoes.
Potatoes cooked 2 Yummy.

It only took about 4 days for Lo, Steve and me to consume all 25 potatoes.

Transylvania, Part 1: Brasov

24 Monday Nov 2014

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Brasov.

Brasov.

BY JULIE SEYLER

To continue where we left off, Steve and I were boarding the night train to Bucharest. This served a dual purpose. We didn’t waste a day traveling, and we had a cheap place to sleep for the night, albeit I was a bit more rested than Steve when we pulled in to the Gara de Nord the following morning at 6:00. We had an hour to kill before we were again en route, this time to Brasov, our home base for four days. From there we could make day trips to the places of note in Transylvania: Count Dracula’s Castle in Bran, Peles Castle in Sinaia and the medieval fortress towns of Sighisoara and Sibiu.

Entrance to Casa Rozelor

Entrance to Casa Rozelor

We arrived on a cold, wet day, and checked into the Casa Rozelor, an apartment hotel located around the corner from the town square on a pedestrian street. The exterior bears the markings of its roots in the 15th century and the interior bears the markings of an upscale design firm. It was comfortable and convenient. A plate of ham, cheese and salami would appear every night in the refrigerator so that we could make sandwiches for breakfast. That, and a bottle of beer was a perfect way to start the day.

We made breakfast.

We made breakfast.

One really only needs a day to see the highlights of Brasov, but having additional time to wander allows its beauty and serenity to be imprinted on the psyche. The to-do list includes the 14th century gothic church, known as the Black Church because of the scars it retains from a fire in 1689.
black church 1There is also the cable car up Mount Tamba to view the town and countryside. I missed it and have to rely on Steve’s photos to get an understanding of how truly pretty the view was. There are a few museums and medieval towers, but what made Brasov memorable was my aimless rambling. The sight lines were seductive. The city is in a state of continuous renovation. Some buildings looked as if they wore their age, others were carefully restored to what they may have looked liked when first erected. They were painted green, yellow and pink with 12 foot high windows framed with intensive scroll work and grand portal entrances protected by carefully wrought wrought iron.storefront Brasov

If I looked up the rooftops created a maze of lines, space, and form.

Brasov 2 roofs

If I looked across the street I might see a home restored to its baroque grandeur.

P1270996

And if I kept my eyes focused on the scene around me, a panorama of the “old” world would appear.

The Town Square

The Town Square dating from 1420.

Coming home from an excursion, I’d plop myself down in the cafe outside the Casa Rozelor.casa roselorAnd as I’d sip my beer I’d watch the reflections change in the windows. And for this I wish I had an Ursus beer right now and could transport myself back to Brasov.

Looking at a window.

Looking at a window.

How to Throw a Party

20 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by in Entertainment, Food

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Come in and have a drink.

Come in and have a drink.

BY JULIE SEYLER

This post is about the Perle Mesta’s of the world, those men and women that know how to throw a fete without sweat. Lois DeSocio, my friend and co-collaborator on The Write Side of 50, is an extreme maven in the field of party-giving. Her menu is never less than inventive: French bread slathered in Nutella and topped with hot sausage, sardines with avocado, swiss cheese, olives and mayo, and meatballs made with grape jelly grace the table. Odd as the concoctions may be, they are always displayed invitingly and usually work as conversation starters. The bar is set up and user-friendly. What looks like thousands of glasses are at the ready for wine and beer, water and soft drinks, distilled liquors and fruit mixers. Olives. The guest list is varied. The combination of every “thing” never fails to make for a great party.

flowers flowers2

From observing her over the years, I have deduced Lo’s tricks for converting hostess “responsibilities” into a really fun time:

She starts working on her guest list.

About 45 days ahead of the party day, she sends out Save the Dates.

Menu contemplation commences. Different ideas percolate, like whether she’ll have it catered, self-prepared, or a combo of each.

Then there’s the issue of space and place. She’s always thinking of the comfort factor — where people will sit, stand, talk and eat and not feel crowded and overwhelmed.

For herself, she starts the party the day before when she puts on Dean Martin, pours a glass of celebratory wine, and sprinkles the finishing touches on the food. This allows her to act as if she’s going to a party, not giving the party.

And the last most crucial ingredient to being a hostess with the mostest:

feet at party

She always has a fabulous time at her party. She’s not worrying. She knows she has given her love.

So here’s to those that know how to throw a party. May we learn from the best of them.

Morning after

(And of course, there’s Lo’s prized morning-after mess.)

 

A Little Night Music and Friends

27 Monday Oct 2014

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The Romanian Atheneum

The Romanian Atheneum

By JULIE SEYLER

The best things pop up unplanned. The gems that come out of nowhere and serve the dual purpose of immediate pleasure, and a forever memory of a great time. When Steve and I were in Romania, there were a bunch of these, but our second day in Bucharest gets star billing.

It started with a visit to a Romanian law firm where we were taken to lunch at La Cantine da Nicolai and I had the fall off the bone veal knuckle. The conversation touched on work, but the topic that animated the discussion was music and what would we take with us if we were stranded on a desert island. Beethoven’s Ninth won hands down, (albeit I did try to make the case that Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue should be included in the suitcase).

We parted our hosts and Steve and I wandered around Bucharest, past the Palace of Parliament through the Old Town, and into the National Gallery of Art where I think we viewed every single icon painting. We were walking over to check out the Romanian Atheneum, when a sign caught my eye.

beethoven's 9th

I could translate it enough to see that there was a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth on that night at 7:00 at the Atheneum. Here we had been talking about that symphony at lunch and by pure serendipity, we had a chance to hear it played that evening by the George Enescu Philharmonic. We found the box office, secured tickets and walked inside the Atheneum, an art work in itself with its confection of color, curving lines, sinuous sculptures, and floor to ceiling decorative flourishes.

The lobby of the Atheneum.

The lobby of the Atheneum.

Ceiling of Romanian Atheneum with microphone wires.

Ceiling of Romanian Atheneum with microphone wires.

Compared to New York City concert halls, the space is diminutive. Steve looked at the stage and doubted the orchestra could deliver the power of the symphony, let alone hold a full chorus for the “Ode to Joy”.

The Romanian Atheneum, Bucharest.

The Romanian Atheneum, Bucharest.

But the orchestra packed a wallop. The acoustics gave Carnegie Hall a run for its money. Amidst the standing ovations I knew I had seen one of the best performances ever in one of the most special venues ever. Both of us loved the coincidence of the afternoon’s conversation being played out in real time. It unfolded so perfectly and unexpectedly that it will never lose its status as a gem surprise. But it was not the last of that day.

Right before the concert started I checked my emails and saw that our friends, whose trip to Bulgaria and Romania overlapped ours, had written to say that they were going to be in Bucharest for dinner. Emails were exchanged, but no firm arrangements made. Steve and I decided to stick to our game plan of eating dinner at this highly recommended restaurant Caru Cu Bere which is located in the Old Town. We are standing in line waiing to get in and someone taps Steve on the shoulder. It was a fabulous surprise.

deb john steve and me

Romania: The Royal Art Museum

20 Monday Oct 2014

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At the Royal Art Museum

At the Royal Art Museum.

BY JULIE SEYLER

We arrived home from Romania, and the sidebar excursions to Paris and London, around midnight Saturday, October 18. I have started culling the 3500 photos I took, and was brought back to the afternoon we spent wandering the National Art Museum in Bucharest. Architecturally, it is a testament to 19th century palatial elegance.

Postcard of National Art Museum 1937-38.

Postcard of National Art Museum 1937-38.

It was built between 1812 to 1815 (the approximate time the U.S. was engaged in the War of 1812 with Great Britain). It started as a private residence, was taken over by royalty in 1834, housed the seat of the State Council during the reign of Nicolae Ceausescu, and opened as an art museum in 2000. Its collection ranges from embroidered tapestries dating to the 14th century to paintings by European masters like Lucas Cranach the Elder and Rembrandt to sculptures by its native son, Constantin Brancusi, and others I never heard of.

Venus and Cupid by Lucas Cranach the Elder

Venus and Cupid by Lucas Cranach the Elder.

Emroidery with silver gilt thread Neamt Monastery 14th century?

Emroidery with silver gilt thread Neamt Monastery, 14th century?

The Chimera of Air by Dimitrie Pachurea 1873-1922

The Chimera of Air by Dimitrie Pachurea 1873-1922.

But one of the best unexpected finds was the grand staircase leading up to the European galleries:

stairs at the Royal Art Museum Bucharest

It had endless angles …

stairs 6

… and curves to explore.

National art museum stairs 1

It was like looking at a giant heart:

stairs7

I Blinked, and It’s My Birthday Again

01 Wednesday Oct 2014

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Looking towards 60.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Birthdays are funny. How we relate to the day we are born changes with age. The year we turn one we are incognizant of the significance, but parents and grandparents are feasting on the fact that a year has passed since you entered the world. By the time you are six, birthdays have been converted into knowledge that this is a special day. Presents are bestowed and there is cake galore. Anticipation builds for the next year, which feels as if it will take FOREVER. Gaining age is a positive.

The milestone birthdays set in: 18 and the right to vote, 21 and the right to drink (albeit in 1973 the legal age in New Jersey was 18), 30 and the idea that this is “old,” and 40 brings the recognition that this is “young.” The big 5-0 feels momentous, but with time passage, it dawns that this is still the minor leagues. After 55 things seem to change slightly, because it is this new era of approaching “old” age, and yet it is always relative. Young and old are only comparison adjectives.

40

Today, I turn 59. Amongst my peers born in 1955, I am on the “younger” side. I have friends that will be turning 60 in four months. It is beyond comprehension that this is happening. I remember my “Sweet 16” (it was a surprise party), and I planned my 40th with assiduous care.

Lois and me at my 40th

Lois and me at my 40th.

Nineteen years ago, and it seems like yesterday. But the reality exists: I shall soon be a woman of 60 years of age.

The cliche that time collapses as we age is proven as each year flies by. Twenty years is forever at six, and the blink of an eye at 60.

But I am going in with gusto, because while I may wither on the outside I am determined to take my Vitamin D and blossom on the inside.

With age comes wisdom, and knowing that the best and only defense to the right side of any age is staying active, curious, connected and laughing as much as possible.