Tuesday, March 9, 2010

White wedding: I have a dream

TALL, blond and graceful, Cheryl Lee Terry looks more like an Ivory soap model than someone who reads palms and numerology charts.

Ms. Terry, who is 46, writes the numerology column for Elle magazine and counsels thousands of private clients, ranging from F.B.I. agents looking for criminals, to politicians, playwrights and scientists wondering about their love lives. She also advises couples wishing to set an auspicious wedding date.

"When John Avedon got married to Maura Moynihan, I spent two hours on the phone with John, choosing the date," she said. "You want to make sure there's no war breaking out that day, no negative numbers."

Ms. Terry's own love life was mapped out years ago during a consultation with the numerologist Florence Meschner. Madly in love at the time, Ms. Terry had asked if she would soon become engaged. She was told instead that she would meet her true soul mate, a tall foreigner, "later in life."

The prediction turned out to be eerily accurate. When she was 40, a friend introduced her to Gerard Potier, a 6-foot-4 French businessman.

On Feb. 13, they were married at Park City's Baptist Church in Dallas, the bride's hometown. "It was destiny," said Mr. Potier, 49, who is soft-spoken and accustomed to making predictions of an economic sort. He is the co-owner of B & H/Potier Partners, a shipping brokerage and consulting company in New York.

The reception took place on Feb. 19 in Vivian and Nathan Serota's art-filled and gardenia-scented apartment on Park Avenue. (The bride calls Mrs. Serota her New York Auntie Mame.) In the entryway, a white marble sculpture of a headless torso, by Igor Mitoraj, sat next to a painting by Miro.

"It was like a wedding reception in the Matisse exhibit," Pamela Keogh, an editor at Us magazine, who had been a guest, said a few days afterward. "Only it was easier to get in, and there were hot hors d'oeuvres."

The eclectic mix of guests included Regis Pagniez, the publications director of Elle; Antoine Bernheim, a money manager, and Steve Marcus, a cartoonist whose work -- he described it as "one-liners about the slacker generation" -- regularly appears on MTV.

A few guests were loyal clients of the bride's, like Holly Millea, a senior editor at Premier magazine, who said: "I've broken up with guys because she said, 'This isn't going to last, and it's just a way for you to kill the time.' So I think, if I'm going to kill time, I'd rather be working out in the gym."

At the reception, Ms. Terry wore a silk, Grace Kelly-esque gown loaned by VanLear Bridals Inc. of New York. Her original gown, also a VanLear, had been shipped from Texas but was lost in transit. "I should have known," she said. "Mercury went into retrograde today."

The dinner of filet mignon and salmon was catered by Penny Glazier, who opened Bridgewaters, a special-events company on Fulton Street, only after a consultation with Ms. Terry.

After dinner, as the newlyweds cut the Sylvia Weinstock wedding cake, they blushed like teen-agers on a great date.

A few days earlier, the bride had said: "Sometimes I look at people's charts and say, 'It's going to come late for you,' and they say, 'But I'll be over 40 years old.' I have to tell them, 'That is absolutely the best time to fall in love!' "

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Cheryl Lee Quote of the Week

”So oftentimes it happens, we all live our life in chains, and we never even know we have the key.” — The Eagles, “Already Gone”

Just thought I would throw this one out there for anyone in need of an end of day slice of heavenly inspiration...

Friday, December 18, 2009

The question of L.O.V.E

Dear babe,

Around the holidays, one tends to think about one's loved ones. I have shown my picture of my beloved pup Sammy (RIP) to counting, three people today...and the day is not yet done! In addition, I have found myself engaged in an emotional battle of the heart on none other than gchat. Better yet, my own flesh and blood mother won't return my phone calls because I have historically viewed her as our modern day Santa Claus and begged like a true middle child for more presents. "Is a bed not enough?" she asks me. To which I respond, "mother, please!" and proceed to cry in the middle of the work place about all the things I need because I am too much of a stingy Jew to buy them myself. I think she is starting to think that yoga is making me more selfish. SNORTY SNORT SNORT SNORT i say to that!

Anywho, dear denn, love is really very complicated (or as my new paramour says about EVERYTHING, "it's really intense and complicated.") Megan Marion and I were discussing this subject and thought hey! let's get to the bottom of this crazy little thing called love.

Now all we need is a forum for this discussion, a few avid listeners, and romantic experience. Megan, you bring the ice cream, I'll bring the window to the soul. Den, just be there to listen.


your girl

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

It's official: i have been invited to my "company" holiday xmas party!!!

Dear Den,
Christmas time is coming, and the Chelsea gays could not be happier.
Walking down the street yesterday, me and a fellow pedestrian stopped
to enjoy the same display of handcuffs, topless fire men calendars,
porn and tinsel. He turned to me and smiled, saying “It’s really
beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.” When I walked into Lew’s
apartment, Christmas carols were playing, 117 red and green candles
were ablaze, and where there wasn’t a wreath there were garlands. I
was alarmed about the possibility of a gay fire, but he assured me
that all the candles were more than 1cm from anything flammable. Cozy
with flannel throws and a bottle of wine, we debated between “17
Again” and “My Best Friend’s Girl”, deciding on the latter which we
realized we had both seen on minute in so opted for smoking cigarettes
and talking about gingerbread houses. In the xmas spirit, Claire (who
really is actually Jewish, maybe??) and I have started our first
annual Christmas list. And so it begins:

Spiritual reading from Susan Miller
Spiritual reading from Cheryl Lee Terry
Tickets to the premier of Nine
The war to be over if it’s still happening
Anything related to John Mayer- CD’s, magazine, signed posters, ANYTHING
Functioning heat
A pug for Stella to play with
A French Bulldog for my pug to play with
non alcoholic or functioning alcoholic bf
a desk

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Precious, Part V

Precious update, as the details unfold:

At the Tim Burton $5000 a plate dinner. What I wouldn’t give to hear a convo between Prec and TB, on his big night.
Adam and Lew approach her, in ALL her purple taffeta glory. So much gay and so many bowties and sooo much taffeta in one conversation. Again, what I wouldn’t give to be in Prec’s head as the two ‘mos rattled off about how much they loved her and her movie. Adam also lies to (LIES TO!) Precious, telling her Lewie and he had gone to see the movie in Harlem. I mean, the day that Lew steps black patent leather penny loafer into Harlem is the day I stop dating alcoholics. I wish she would come to family dinner on Sunday nights, except Jules would probably slip up and call Stella Precious in front of human Precious.

Denny, see you in Jersey!









Friday, November 13, 2009

Denny, my Keats

Dear Denny,

“Bright Star” is about romance, and not the kind of romance I had with the California surfer-cum-documentary filmmaker le weekend passé. It is about the truest love that existed in 19th century England or probably ever ): the love between John Keats and his sassy, seamstress girl Fanny. I have never tried to kill myself because a boyfriend didn’t correspond with me because he was away on his summer rental with his bff, nor have I made my brother and sister fill the room with butterflies (dead or alive) to remind myself of my love. I am therefore convinced that I have never experience love at all and I will not settle until I find my own androgynous and tortured writer. It actually may not be that hard. Anyone who has seen this movie and not wept about it for hours, even days, I am totally convinced doesn’t have a feelings or even a soul. It makes me want to write poetry about my love for you, Den, but I know John Keats would say that women can’t write and I would probably agree.

Your Bright Star
Megan Marion

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Precious Part II

Claire my precious is the new writer and, as per your request ML, I will formally introduce her (to you).

Like the real Precious, Claire grew up in NYC. In fact, not so far from Precious’ home in Harlem, Claire spent her formative years in the Upper West Side. Unlike the real Precious, Claire is skinny and without her father's children.

At 18, Claire moved to Middletown, CT to study at Wesleyan University, “majoring in boys.” Perhaps you remember, Denny, when Claire was convinced that you were in love with her? Well, I remember meeting Claire. She wanted to stab me in my face. Now we are neighbors and both love TV.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Cheryl Lee Terry, my heart and soul!

Perhaps we should all consider the advice of Thomas Crum: “Instead of seeing the rug being pulled from under us, we can learn to dance on a shifting carpet.”

Dearest Denny Wenny,

Since I am now obsessed with the blogosphere, I thought I would share with you someone else out there who inhabits the cyberspace as well as my heartspace. Her name is Cheryl Lee Terry and you may have heard me talk about her every Monday of every week. She included the complicated and wondrous quote above in this weeks reading. She likes Leonard Cohen (so do I!), she tells me what days are just NOT going to be MY days, she inspires me with heartfelt lines from an array of influential individuals, sometimes Mr. Cohen himself, other times, poetic women such as Maya Angelou. And if you're feeling particularly in the mood for a challenge, she may even throw in a Zen koan to get your mind buzzing.

And Denny, let me just say that when you are truly in the dumps, when the rolling credits of FNL or HIMYM come up, when you text every person in your phone and they ALL ignore you, when you take that last bite of brownie and know that you just want more but can't have any more, just turn on your computer, search the site for your weekly Leo reading, and Cheryl Lee will guide you to the light.

Oh and did I forget that her motto is "Be the Change."??? I'm currently trying to decide the appropriate place to tattoo those words of wisdom onto my body. Perhaps on my heart?


your bestie

Friday, November 6, 2009

Just One of the Gang!

Dear Denny,

This first post goes out to you, babe! Last night, after a crazy black out night after two glasses of red wine with my dad and brother in "Soho," I rushed home and lit a candle, tucked myself into bed, put the US Weekly next to my pillow, and turned on my favorite night time companion: HIMYM!

Let's just put it this way: I laughed, I cried, I texted you, you didn't respond, I laughed some more, I texted you again, I smiled with my eyes....you get the point. Now, some may think that having a date with the gang from How I Met Your Mother on a Thursday night is somewhat oh-i-don't-know pathetic. Others may be reminded that the last time I dedicated this kind of time and love to a friendly gang on screen was when I was depressed and hiding a bar here and a bar there of my favorite kind of chocolate next to my bed. Ah Felicity and Ben Covington, you guys really got me through a hard time and forever I will be reminded of you when I wake up with chocolate on my pillow and a bellyache!!

Anyway, back on track. Denny, last night when Barney and Ted were being best pals and really supporting each other by drinking, high-fiving, sitting in their booth, and flirting with dumb skanks, I was reminded of our friendship. Remember just the other night on Halloween, when we tried to flirt with the guy in the white t-shirt? We asked him innocently "what are you supposed to be"? Only to have him and his friend look at us and laugh hysterically and then turn their backs? Remember that Den? Well good thing we have each other! Dennis "legendary" Jones and Claire "says I love you on the first date" Typaldos!

Oh man, it's nice to be part of the gang!


Saint Clarice!