The Happy Grownup

When I was growing up, watching the news meant you had one hour early in the evening. One half hour of local news at 6, national news at 6:30, both delivered by a select group of white men in what looked like dark gray suits because color TV wasn’t popular yet, relaying the day’s events with sonorous solemnity. Where were the women? There weren’t any. Well, not exactly. There were a few females on air, though way past puberty, they were called weather girls. No, they were not meteorologists. They were pageboard young ladies in tasteful shifts with perky voices and perpetual smiles who gave you the forecast in three brief minutes before they signed off with cheering non-sequiturs like “have a happy!” and conveying all the gravitas of a stewardess or a car hop on roller skates. I don’t know of a single intelligent woman who wanted to grow up to be one.

It wasn’t until the 1960s that gutsy women like Barbara Walters, Nancy Dickerson, Dorothy Fuldheim, Diane Sawyer (who, by the way, started as a weather girl) and Melba Tolliver fought like infantrymen to carve a respected place in television news. My guess is these are the women that Deborah Roberts wanted to be when she grew up. She’s done a hell of a job staking her claim at ABC news. She has spent the last 30 years both in-studio as a host of 20/20 and in the field covering major events both globally and nationally: the AIDS crisis in Africa, the plight of Rwandan refugees, the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona, the aftermath of the Gulf War, and captivating interviews with women who matter to her, and should to us, like Rosa Parks, and a feisty woman named Michelle Obama who was reluctantly thrust into the spotlight when her husband tossed his hat into the presidential ring. It all sounds so serious, but Deborah Roberts is charming, warm, dedicated and a role model. She dresses great, and she is one half of a marvelous couple because her husband is the nicest man on morning television, Al Roker.

She’s been doing this a long time, other women in her place might have thought of retirement, and unless she’s holding out on me, Deborah Roberts doesn’t seem to have any interest in stopping, and that’s why I’m so glad to see her here on The Happy Grownup.

After 30 years of covering fashion, I don't think I've ever met anyone who doesn't know Jeffrey Banks. More importantly, I don't know anyone who doesn't like Jeffrey Banks. I almost don't even know how that's possible, but his attitude, his energy, his outlook is consistently positive. What's more, unlike so many other strivers in the industry who are so desperate to make their mark that they would sooner test the boundaries and garner the press that outrageousness usually commands. Jeffrey has been an unwavering advocate of pragmatism, relevance, and timelessness.

Fashion is a fool's crush when the rush lasts no longer than a moment. Jeffrey's passion, however, is devoted to fashion that lasts, that always looks right, but never betrays or overshadows the individual. The people he has worked with, collaborated with, and written about, Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, Norman Norell, Patricia Underwood, Perry Ellis, Isaac Mizrahi, all share the same mission. Design great clothes that enhance rather than upstage, that swath you in authority, radiate class and self-awareness, and that readily become permanent wardrobe staples because you will always wear them with confidence.

What I like about Jeffrey is how he never forgets the past and is always excited about the future. To prove that point, having just turned a no wait as he looks 70, he has just launched two projects that celebrate his ability to look both ways. Banks' newest book, Storyteller, harvests his natural and enviable ability to convey deliciously gossipy, wry and insightful tales from his rich and varied career, as well as the parade of fascinating people he has met along the way.

Proving that there is never a last act, as long as you were eager to start another one, Jeffrey Banks is launching a brand new clothing line. One slightly unexpected and more carefree than the elegant classic silhouette he is known for.

I am delighted to have Jeffrey joining us so that we can look back together, we can look forward together, and we could look right now at how a master arbiter of style assesses how fashion has and will fit into our lives.

Thirty years ago I walked into Le Cirque, back when it was the chicest restaurant in New York, when anyone who was anyone, or wanted to be anybody, would jockey for position to be seated and be seen. The marvelous Daniel Boulud was the chef then, Sirio Maccioni, the owner, was the ultimate restaurateur. But Sirio wasn’t at the front desk that afternoon.

Instead, I was greeted by a most uncommon woman. Unlike most demure coquettish haute hostesses of the era, she was statuesque, she was imposing and she stood erect as a cadet in a sleek back pantsuit, standing almost eye to eye and I’m six foot four. As she said hello with an easy smile, speaking in a forthright alto while radiating an aura that informed you that the word shy has never been used in her presence.

”Sirio, who the heck is that?” I ask, because she sure as hell ain’t no hostess. “She’s very special”, replied Sirio. “She’s here to help us. I think she’d be good.” And then he asked, “Do you want to meet her?” 

So began my friendship with Elizabeth Blau. Under the auspices of Steve Wynn, Elizabeth transformed Las Vegas near single-handedly from the land of all-you-can-eat buffets to a great food town. She beguiled chefs from all around the globe to join her first at the Bellagio and then at the Wynn. After forming Elizabeth Blau and Associates, she and her husband, Chef Kim Canteenwalla, created unique dining experiences in Vancouver, then Dallas, and now they traverse the globe consulting for anyone who wants to satisfy the five senses with food. This year, Elizabeth was shortlisted for a Foodie Oscar: Outstanding Restaurateur by the James Beard Foundation. Dining with Elizabeth and Kim at their restaurant, Honey Salt in Las Vegas is all the proof I need to prove my point. Elizabeth’s insight and nurturing spirit drives her ever growing consultancy towards success because she has a singular goal. Your restaurant, your bakery, or you catering company will have lines out the door if and only if along with great dishes on the menu, you serve and bring people joy.

After our first meeting, Mr. Maccioni said to me, “Elizabetta, she is special, no?” She sure as hell is.

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.