The Happy Grownup

Jackie Camacho is my new skincare guru. A mutual friend introduced us, she sent me her line — Cible, one of the most exciting French skincare brands to arrive on this side of the Atlantic — and two weeks later, the difference in my skin was not subtle. It was, frankly, startling. Jackie came up through SkinCeuticals, one of the most hallowed names in dermatological skincare, which tells you everything about her standards. But what makes her genuinely rare is this: she's as fluent in the affordable as she is in the aspirational. She knows what's worth the splurge, what works just as well for a fraction of the price, and — most importantly for those of us over 50 — what our skin actually needs right now.

I don't know about you, but I find Andy Cohen irritating. Who the hell smiles that much?

It doesn't matter whether he's standing in Times Square, freezing his butt off on New Year's Eve. Sitting in the middle of a dozen freshly tucked, cleavage bearing women, talking and tossing trash on Real Housewives reunions, or fairly bouncing out of his host chair on Watch What Happens, baiting Hillary Clinton to diss Ted Cruz, playing ‘Never Have I Ever ‘with Mary J. Blige, or gushing over his buddy Sarah Jessica Parker's new boots. There is that ubiquitous, shit-eating, yet absolutely irresistible grin. Why is this man so fucking happy all the time?

Why? Because Andy Cohen is living his life and loving every minute of it. Producer, talent scout, entrepreneur, talk show and podcast host, best-selling author, gay activist, Father Confessor to Bravo's ever-growing coast-to-coast, Our Lady of Restylane congregation and real life father of two, no one works harder at being cheeky, impish, charming, and omnipresent than Andy Cohen. And though he's been in broadcasting for over three decades, the youthful looking 57-year-old's not slowing down.

The world of reality television is tricky because it looks easier than it is, because it often zeroes in on people behaving badly, because it gets dismissed as pandering, coarse, trashy, staged. Cohen laughs it off, remaining its most fervent cheerleader and champion, satisfied in knowing that his version of it entertains millions, that it's fun, and that it's harmless, no matter what Gloria Steinem thinks. Plus it makes you forget your own tsuris, if only for an hour. And no one is better at creating and sustaining it than today's Happy Grownup guest. But unlike most of his previous, numerous interviews, I am are not going to focus on Aviva throwing her prosthetic leg, Teresa turning over the table, or Angie vomiting on the yacht. This Happy Grownup hour is going to be all about Andy Cohen.

The Happy Grownup came about because while I knew the years were flying (at this stage, Time is driving a McLaren like an F1 qualifier) but I couldn’t understand why I didn’t look or feel like I thought I would at this age. 

I mean, yeah, the mirror made it clear that I was on a bridge way too far from 37, (my perfect imagined age), but rather than taunting me, it agreed with me. I looked damned good! Then why I didn’t see people like myself on TV or in print ads? Instead, we only showed up to illustrate erectile dysfunction, to try on Depends, and to buy reverse mortgages. The marketplace didn’t appear eager to satisfy my taste and reap my cash, even though I’m more likely to afford the luxuriant car, the vicuna coat, the African safari, and the $300 anti-aging cream. Was I the only one who felt attention must be paid? 

I am so glad I found Sari Botton. Thanks to her Oldster newsletter, I know I am not alone. This intrepid and insightful journalist, essayist, and best-selling author, who was recently featured in a beautiful profile in the New York Times, has created a platform that, like Grownup, spotlights, welcomes, and encourages writers, personalities, and anyone with focus and self-determination a place to celebrate all of us who still believe we have more to see, more to enjoy, and more to do. 

Oldster, which Sari began in 2021, is now published four times a week as a much-needed forum for every New Ager who wants to know more about what is and isn’t possible to share ideas, reveal challenges, and find a way forward. This past February, I had the pleasure of taking the Oldster questionnaire, which is way more intense than either Vanity Fair’s or Stephen Colbert’s. And it was a delight to share and compare my observations with such previous questionnaire guests as John Irving and Rosie O’Donnell. I don’t have a questionnaire to give out. So that’s why I asked Sari Botton to join me today so that we can celebrate, pontificate, agitate and instigate how to enjoy growing older together.

I have had a crush on Vanessa Williams for…oh, a little over 40 years. I know this sounds astounding now, but back in the ‘80s over 55 million people watched the Miss America pageant and my family never missed it. It was like this well-dressed, benign version of Survivor all in one night: parading beautiful young women, each representing their home state, vying for lucrative college scholarships. But in order to do so, they had to wear gowns, strut around the stage in high heels and a bathing suit and answer pontificatingly inane questions that somehow always ended up in hoping for world peace.

But it was the talent portion that really fascinated me. There were ladies playing piano, playing marimba, accordion, even the cups, monologues from plays, tap dancing, baton twirlers, fire dances, women walking on glass. Two of my favorites were Miss America 1961, Nancy Ann Fleming, her talent was she showed several different ways to pack a suitcase for the weekend, and Vonda Kay Van Dyke, Miss America 1965, who was not a half bad ventriloquist. But rarely was there someone with any real talent. And then in 1984, Miss New York State, this stunning 20-year-old Black American woman sang a version of Happy Days Are Here Again with an arrangement similar to Barbra Streisand’s groundbreaking interpretation of the song. She was goddamn good! Like, Broadway-bound good! And that’s how Vanessa Williams became Miss America in 1984. She was smart. She had poise. Her politics was startlingly aligned with the way young America thought. And it turns out she was incredibly tough. 

That toughness has led Vanessa to more comebacks than most people get in a lifetime, except she never calls them a comeback because to her, she never actually went away. She’s had a bestselling book. She has had top records. She’s been on Broadway and Into the Woods and Kiss of the Spider Woman. I see her in everything. We loved her on Desperate Housewives. We loved her even more on Ugly Betty. She’s sung at the Super Bowl. She’s sung at the Oscars. When people ask you what’s one of my favorite holiday memories, I tell them I went Christmas shopping with Vanessa Williams because that’s how I did my Egg magazine interview with her. Vanessa is now the toast of London. where she is starring in Elton John’s smash hit musical adaptation of The Devil Wears Prada, which may never get to New York because the damn thing just keeps getting extended. And now I have saved the best for last because she is with me here on The Happy Grownup and I couldn’t be more delighted.

Why do I love talking to Dana Thomas? Because she knows more about fashion than just about anybody but doesn’t ever gush about clothes with inane commentary like, “She’s killing it!” “Now that’s red carpet realness!,” or “I die!” Instead Dana is refreshing and candid. She can reveal the elusive way designers instigate desire, explain how a growing trend gets marketed, highlight the industry’s influence on our everyday lives, and tell you why looking good matters more than any of us wants to admit. With pragmatic and witty insight, Dana fascinates when analyzing the times fashion’s designers, editors, execs, retailers and consumers work together in harmony as well as when they explode in clashing dissonance. I could talk to her for days.