On a chilly January weekend in Los Angeles, I turned into a truffle pig. I foraged relentlessly all over town, looking for truffle fries.
By Monday, when it was time to go to my interview, the only thing in my suitcase I could squeeze into was a Spanx dress.
“My sister gave me this for Christmas,” I explained sheepishly to the famously lissome Calista Flockhart as I slid into a booth on the terrace of the Georgian Hotel. “I guess you’ve never owned any Spanx.”
“I love Spanx!” she said. “In fact, I just ordered — no kidding — a pair of Spanx jeans. They make really cute jeans. They’re very wide.”
Seeing my skeptical look, she reminded me: “It’s not only about sucking it all in. It’s about smoothing it all the way. No panty lines.”
And then, as we sat in this romantic spot, looking out at the ocean, she said the thing that made me fall in love: “Would you like to nibble on something? How about some French fries?”
