Confessions—The MoDo Diaries

My friends and readers here (especially of the shirt-making variety) will hang their heads in shame if they recall that I am impossibly in love with Maureen Dowd. I pine in silence, but don't mistake my lull for tranquility. I feel quite like the New York Post gossip index:

I HATE that Maureen Dowd is maybe the sharpest and — here's the part I hate most — best-looking columnist in the business. I also hate that her new Putnam book "BushWorld: Enter at Your Own Risk," with smarmy writing like, how "the black sheep usurps the dutiful brother," and how "the bag emperor calls me 'Cobra' ," made the best-seller list. I also hate that she's slim, red-haired and sports industrial-strength mascara. At her Four Seasons book launch party, she discussed this new glam:

"Next to Bill Safire, I'm the Times' worst-dressed writer. I'm forever schlepping stuff. My wardrobe's jeans, T-shirts, vintage and funky because, with everyone usually angry with what I've written, I'm mostly alone. My world is isolation. And who has time? It's always a choice between a manicure or reading the Wall Street Journal. But, doing my first book tour in 13 years, I had to fix up.

"And everybody's weighing in on the look. Readers comment the under-eye makeup is too strong. My brother, who never before noticed anything, said my lipstick's too dark. The publicist complained, 'You say "ummmm" too much.' When I didn't know what to wear on TV an editor told me, 'Dress in jackets. You'll look more professional.' "

There's just no good reason for MoDo to be alone. It's dreadful to think that she might curl up at home on Sunday nights wearing an oversized cableknit sweater in the winter/Warren Sapp jersey in the summer to watch Da Ali G Show alone. I sort of doubt she is:

Jackets? When I saw her she was flashing a lush neckline that was so low you could've shoved a computer down it.

And it's things like that that make me forgive her her columns. It's worse than love—I'm becoming a Maureen Dowd apologist. The NYP doesn't much share my sentiment:

I hate Maureen Dowd.

Who knows love, who know only love? (. . . I don't know what that means.)

Posted by Kriston at August 26, 2004 1:32 PM