The Fran Lebowitz Reader
Fran Lebowitz still lives in New York City, as she does not believe that she would be allowed to live anywhere else.
Books by
Fran Lebowitz
Metropolitan Life
Social Studies
Mr. Chas and Lisa Sue Meet the Pandas
FIRST VINTAGE BOOKS EDITION, NOVEMBER 1994
Copyright © 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979, 1980, 1981, 1994 by Fran Lebowitz
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. This edition was originally published in hardcover as two separate works: Metropolitan Life by E. P. Dutton, New York, in 1974, and Social Studies by Random House, Inc., New York, in 1981.
Some of these pieces appeared originally in Andy Warhol’s Interview and in Mademoiselle. “MY DAY: An Introduction of Sorts” appeared in British Vogue in a slightly different form.
eISBN: 978-0-307-74493-7
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 94-61671
9B
v3.1_r1
for Lisa Robinson
Contents
Cover
About the Author
Other Books by this Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Preface
METROPOLITAN LIFE
My Day: An Introduction of Sorts
MANNERS
Manners
Vocational Guidance for the Truly Ambitious
Modern Sports
Breeding Will Tell: A Family Treatment
Disco Hints: The New Etiquette
Better Read Than Dead: A Revised Opinion
Children: Pro or Con?
A Manual: Training for Landlords
Success Without College
Specialty Banking: A Numbered Account
The Right of Eminent Domain Versus the Rightful Dominion of the Eminent
The Family Affair: A Moral Tale
Guide and Seek: I’m O.K., You’re Not
A World View
Notes on “Trick”
SCIENCE
Science
The Nail Bank: Not Just Another Clip Joint
Digital Clocks and Pocket Calculators: Spoilers of Youth
Weak Speech Handsets: Aid for the Dull
The Primary Cause of Heterosexuality Among Males in Urban Areas: Yet Another Crackpot Theory
Why I Love Sleep
Good Weather and Its Propensity to Frequent the Better Neighborhoods
Plants: The Roots of All Evil
Mars: Living in a Small Way
City Limiting: The New Geography
Food for Thought and Vice Versa
ARTS
Arts
Not in the: Mood Jewelry
Clothes with Pictures and/or Writing on Them: Yes—Another Complaint
Soho: Or Not at Home with Mr. Art
Color: Drawing the Line
The Sound of Music: Enough Already
A Brush with Death
LETTERS
Letters
Writing: A Life Sentence
In Hot Pursuit
Or Not CB: That Is the Answer
The Word Lady: Most Often Used to Describe Someone You Wouldn’t Want to Talk to for Even Five Minutes
Taking a Letter
Writers on Strike: A Chilling Prophecy
A Few Words on a Few Words
No News Is Preferable
SOCIAL STUDIES
PEOPLE
People
How Not to Marry a Millionaire: A Guide for the Misfortune Hunter
The Four Greediest Cases: A Limited Appeal
Parental Guidance
Tips for Teens
At Home with Pope Ron
The Modern-Day Lives of the Saints
The Servant Problem
THINGS
Things
Pointers for Pets
The Frances Ann Lebowitz Collection
The Pen of My Aunt Is on the Operating Table
PLACES
Places
Lesson One
Diary of a New York Apartment Hunter
Fran Lebowitz’s Travel Hints
IDEAS
Ideas
When Smoke Gets in Your Eyes … Shut Them
The Last Laugh
The Fran Lebowitz High Stress Diet and Exercise Program
The Unnatural Order
How to Be a Directory Assistance Operator: A Manual
War Stories
The Short Form
An Alphabet of New Year’s Resolutions for Others
To Have and Do Not
Preface
The first of the pieces in this volume were written in my early twenties—the last, in my early thirties. I am now in what only the most partisan and utopian of observers would describe as my early forties. It is therefore unsurprising that the question of what used to be called relevance (exactly) has been raised. Allow me then, to lower it.
Although it is true that mood rings, CB radio, disco, high-tech interior decoration, and safe sex with strangers are either no longer novel or extant, it cannot be denied that many such things (although not, alas, the last) have been frequently revived, and that in this singularly dull and retroactive era to require timeliness of a writer, when it is no longer even required of timeliness, is not only grossly unfair, but also unseemly.
If what is presently called art can be called art, and what is presently called history can be called history (indeed, if what is presently called the present can be called the present), then I urge the contemporary reader—that solitary figure—to accept these writings in the spirit in which they were originally intended and are once again offered: as art history. But art history with a difference; modern, pertinent, current, up-to-the-minute art history. Art history in the making.
Fran Lebowitz
September 1994
Metropolitan Life
My Day:
An Introduction of Sorts
12:35 P.M.—The phone rings. I am not amused. This is not my favorite way to wake up. My favorite way to wake up is to have a certain French movie star whisper to me softly at two-thirty in the afternoon that if I want to get to Sweden in time to pick up my Nobel Prize for Literature I had better ring for breakfast. This occurs rather less often than one might wish.
Today is a perfect example, for my caller is an agent from Los Angeles who informs me that I don’t know him. True, and not without reason. He is audibly tan. He is interested in my work. His interest has led him to the conclusion that it would be a good idea for me to write a movie comedy. I would, of course, have total artistic freedom, for evidently comic writers have taken over the movie business. I look around my apartment (a feat readily accomplished by simply glancing up) and remark that Dino De Laurentiis would be surprised to hear that. He chuckles tanly and suggests that we talk. I suggest that we are talking. He, however, means there and at my own expense. I reply that the only way I could get to Los Angeles at my own expense is if I were to go by postcard. He chuckles again and suggests that we talk. I agree to talk just as soon as I have won the Nobel Prize—for outstanding achievement in physics.
12:55 P.M.—I try to get back to sleep. Although sleeping is an area in which I have manifested an almost Algeresque grit and persistence, I fail to attain my goal.
1:20 P.M.—I go downstairs to get the mail. I get back into bed. Nine press releases, four screening notices, two bills, an invitation to a party in honor of a celebrated heroin addict, a final disconnect notice from New York Telephon
e, and three hate letters from Mademoiselle readers demanding to know just what it is that makes me think that I have the right to regard houseplants—green, living things—with such marked distaste. I call the phone company and try to make a deal, as actual payment is not a possibility. Would they like to go to a screening? Would they care to attend a party for a heroin addict? Are they interested in knowing just what it is that makes me think that I have the right to regard houseplants with such marked distaste? It seems they would not. They would like $148.10. I agree that this is, indeed, an understandable preference, but caution them against the bloodless quality of a life devoted to the blind pursuit of money. We are unable to reach a settlement. I pull up the covers and the phone rings. I spend the next few hours fending off editors, chatting amiably, and plotting revenge. I read. I smoke. The clock, unfortunately, catches my eye.
3:40 P.M.—I consider getting out of bed. I reject the notion as being unduly vigorous. I read and smoke a bit more.
4:15 P.M.—I get up feeling curiously unrefreshed. I open the refrigerator. I decide against the half a lemon and jar of Gulden’s mustard and on the spur of the moment choose instead to have breakfast out. I guess that’s just the kind of girl I am—whimsical.
5:10 P.M.—I return to my apartment laden with magazines and spend the remainder of the afternoon reading articles by writers who, regrettably, met their deadlines.
6:55 P.M.—A romantic interlude. The object of my affections arrives bearing a houseplant.
9:30 P.M.—I go to dinner with a group of people that includes two fashion models, a fashion photographer, a fashion photographer’s representative, and an art director. I occupy myself almost entirely with the art director—drawn to him largely because he knows the most words.
2:05 A.M.—I enter my apartment and prepare to work. In deference to the slight chill I don two sweaters and an extra pair of socks. I pour myself a club soda and move the lamp next to the desk. I reread several old issues of Rona Barrett’s Hollywood and a fair piece of The Letters of Oscar Wilde. I pick up my pen and stare at the paper. I light a cigarette. I stare at the paper. I write, “My Day: An Introduction of Sorts.” Good. Lean yet cadenced. I consider my day. I become unaccountably depressed. I doodle in the margin. I jot down an idea I have for an all-black version of a Shakespearean comedy to be called As You Likes It. I look longingly at my sofa, not unmindful of the fact that it converts cleverly into a bed. I light a cigarette. I stare at the paper.
4:50 A.M.—The sofa wins. Another victory for furniture.
Manners
Manners
I am not a callous sort. I believe that all people should have warm clothing, sufficient food, and adequate shelter. I do feel, however, that unless they are willing to behave in an acceptable manner they should bundle up, chow down, and stay home.
I speak here not only of etiquette, for while etiquette is surely a factor, acceptable behavior is comprised of a good deal more. It demands, for instance, that the general public refrain from starting trends, overcoming inhibitions, or developing hidden talents. It further requires acceptance of the fact that the common good is usually not very and that there is indeed such a thing as getting carried away with democracy. Oppression and/or repression are not without their charms nor freedom and/or license their drawbacks. This can clearly be seen in the following chart.
THE BY-PRODUCTS OF OPPRESSION AND/OR REPRESSION THE BY-PRODUCTS OF FREEDOM AND/OR LICENSE
WOMEN
1. Well-kept fingernails 1. The word chairperson
2. Homemade cookies 2. The acceptance of construction boots as suitable attire for members of the fair sex
3. A guarantee that at least one segment of the population could be relied upon to display a marked distaste for strenuous physical activity 3. Girl ministers
4. The distinct probability that even a small gathering would yield at least one person who knew how to respond properly to a wedding invitation 4. The male centerfold
5. Real coffee 5. Erica Jong
JEWS
1. Highly entertaining stand-up comedians 1. Progressive nursery schools
2. The Stage Delicatessen 2. Frozen bagels
3. A guarantee that at least one segment of the population could be relied upon to display a marked distaste for strenuous physical activity 3. The Upper West Side
4. The development and perfection of theatrical law as a flourishing profession 4. The notion that it is appropriate for a writer to surrender a percentage of his income to an agent
5. Interesting slang expressions, particularly those used to describe Gentiles 5. Erica Jong
BLACKS
1. Jazz 1. Strawberry wine
2. The provision of the southern portion of the United States with a topic of conversation 2. Negro accountants
3. Tap dancing 3. Inventive forms of handshaking
4. The preservation in our culture of a lively interest in revenge 4. Open admissions
5. Amos ‘n’ Andy 5. Sammy Davis, Jr.
6. Interesting slang expressions, particularly those used to describe white people 6. The Symbionese Liberation Army
TEEN-AGERS
1. The thrill of illicit drinking 1. Strawberry wine
2. Sexual denial and the resultant development of truly exciting sexual fantasies 2. Easy sexual access and the resultant premature boredom
3. The swank of juvenile delinquency 3. Social commitment
4. The glamour of alienation 4. People who may very well just be discovering symbolist poetry being allowed to vote
HOMOSEXUALS
1. Precision theatrical dancing 1. A Chorus Line
2. Sarcasm 2. Amyl nitrate
3. Art 3. Leather underwear
4. Literature 4. Lesbian mothers
5. Real gossip 5. Heterosexual hairdressers
6. The amusing notion that Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf was really about two men 6. The amusing notion that Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf was really about a man and a woman
Two basic steps must be taken in order to reach the eventual goal of acceptable behavior. The first (which I assume you have already accomplished) is a careful perusal of the above chart. The second is ridding oneself of certain popular and harmful misconceptions, as follows:
It is not true that there is dignity in all work. Some jobs are definitely better than others. It is not hard to tell the good jobs from the bad. People who have good jobs are happy, rich, and well dressed. People who have bad jobs are unhappy, poor and use meat extenders. Those who seek dignity in the type of work that compels them to help hamburgers are certain to be disappointed. Also to be behaving badly.
There is no such thing as inner peace. There is only nervousness or death. Any attempt to prove otherwise constitutes unacceptable behavior.
Very few people possess true artistic ability. It is therefore both unseemly and unproductive to irritate the situation by making an effort. If you have a burning, restless urge to write or paint, simply eat something sweet and the feeling will pass. Your life story would not make a good book. Do not even try.
All God’s children are not beautiful. Most of God’s children are, in fact, barely presentable. The most common error made in matters of appearance is the belief that one should disdain the superficial and let the true beauty of one’s soul shine through. If there are places on your body where this is a possibility, you are not attractive—you are leaking.
Vocational Guidance
for the Truly Ambitious
People of every age are interested in bettering themselves. It is with this in mind that the majority choose their life work. Most professions require specific training and skills. Some, however—those a bit off the beaten track—must be entered in a different fashion. Since these fields are often the most difficult to gain a foothold in, one is advised to make certain that one is really suited to this type of work. It is with this in mind that I offer the following series of tests.
So You Want to Be the Pope?
This pos
ition has traditionally been reserved for men. Women interested in this job should be warned of the almost insurmountable odds against them. Religion also plays an important role here, so if you have your doubts you would be well advised to consider something a touch less restrictive.
I most enjoy speaking … On the phone.
After dinner.
Off the cuff.
In private.
Ex cathedra.
Of the following, my favorite name is … Muffy.
Vito.
Ira.
Jim Bob.
Innocent XIII.
Most of my friends are … Left-wing intellectuals
Loose women.
Quality people.
Regular guys.
Good sports.
Cardinals.
All roads lead to … Bridgehampton.
Cap d’Antibes.
Midtown.
Tampa.
Rome.
Complete this phrase or word. Dog … House.
Food.
Tired.
Days.
ma.
My friends call me … Stretch.
Doc.
Toni.
Izzy.
Supreme Pontiff.
For dress-up occasions I prefer … Something kicky yet elegant.
Anything by Halston.
Evening pajamas.
A surplice and miter.
I would feel most secure knowing that I had … Enough money.
A good alarm system.
A big dog.
A union contract.
The Swiss Guard.
When annoyed at myself for taking it too easy I … Go on a low-carbohydrate diet.
Read Emerson.
Swim forty laps.
Chop firewood.
Wash the feet of the poor.
So You Want to Be an Heiress?
The Fran Lebowitz Reader Page 1
