A writer friend is in town for a book signing January 29. We go out for drinks after the signing and I am talking to his publicist, A, who keeps calling me Betty Page. I tell him that I am thinking of chopping my hair off, Louise Brooks-style, what does he think? A loves the idea. In fact, he's a huge fan of the whole flapper era thang. He's having his birthday party Feb 13 -- it's 20's-themed and I must come. So, okay. He emails me the invite the next day. My best friend and I rent dresses and go -- it's an AMAZING party.

FULL OUT. GORGEOUS brownstone, 5-piece band, password to get in, HOMEBREW -- everything. It's a BLAST. There is, I think, one guy there not in costume. Very cute, tall guy with pointy burns and a gap in his teeth. He introduces himself.