Andy Cohen muses on Sully, the Grammys, and eating on subways.

OK we need to break down Doreen, the blond US Air flight attendant profiled on 60 Minutes last night along w/ Hero Pilot Sully Superstar. Is she a crazylady, heroine, or both? And we WILL get into my girl D in a minute, after I talk about the downright balmy weekend vibe in Manhattan that generated a hit-the-street attitude all over town.

I keep looking for "for rent" signs in the West Village to see if there is one business that's going down but I can't spot any, so the boom continues down there. Even my little cleaners just hired additional staff, who can't figure out the vintage register and then rope in the old lady who doesn't speak English and double your wait-time. So they're trying to sort through THAT. And in other very local news, Marc Jacobs' domination continues and Jack Spade just popped up — they have good ties.


On Saturday I met some friends at a candy store so great that at worst it could cheer a bad mood, and at best inspire a cult. It's called Papabubble on Broome St. and I betcha they sell stuff online, so check it out! It's mainly homemade hard candy and suckers and drops and neat jars with cool flavors and they make it all there in front of you. They let you taste everything and hand you piping hot ropey candy as they cut and shape it into lollys and suckers. Do I smell a Papabubble franchise opportunity in the future?  andys-blog-andy-reflection.JPG

Somehow along the way in Soho I wound up in a haze at Uniqlo, where the music is like a stereophonic electro shopping k-hole trance which causes me to wind up gliding around for 40 minutes with an armfull of stuff I don't need and dialated pupils. There is no time of day or seasons there, it's 24/7 Uniqlo. So that happened.


Yesterday was springy and in the 50s and we powerwalked around Central Park. It is a misery in the weekend and I know we have months of torture, but any day that even hints at a thaw is a day to freak out.  We took a mo to breathe and reflect on life in the most sacred spot in NYC, the Diana Ross Playground.andys-blog-andy-ice.JPG

I can't visit the Upper West Side without stopping by Allan and Suzi's vintage fashion emporium on Amsterdam. Those two wackadoodles used to have an insane public access show around the time Robin Byrd was still doing new episodes of hers. Allan was at the store yesterday, framed by his iconic (to channel 35 viewers?) grey mane of curls, seemingly lording over some Donny Osmond art that featured my boy with a black eye. If I owned that art, I'd lord over it too. I wouldn't leave the house.


60 Minutes was done up in a platinum  wrapper last night. Did anyone NOT shed a tear watching Sully reunite with the passengers? And the letters? I don't want to be unchristian, but did anyone else raise an eyebrow at "Doreen" who can't put on her uniform due to emotional scarring from what went down that day? I know I am a jaded fool but I couldn't help wondering if she was serving up coffee, tea, and crazy back there. D worked the back of the plane and it sounds like she experienced quite a different story: and the truth is that the plane landed on the rear so I am sure she's right. I don't know — did anyone else think she was kooky?  The Coldplay piece was sensational, and watching Chris Martin's big Caribbean colored eyes in HD was fantastic too. I was in and out of the Grammys, which for me was all about studying the intense facework of Smokey Robinson, Neil Diamond, and Sir Paul McCartney. Wowza! They kinda look like ladies? Grande Dame-like, like Kay Chancellor when she got her first lift?  Whitney seemed "off" to me but maybe I am looking too hard. I root for her! She's the Queen!

SUBWAY REPORT: Does anyone else think that eating on the subway is gross? I suck at math, but I THINK the equation of exposed food plus sneezy underground petrie dish equals staph infection, right? Or is it: exposed food plus germ terrarium equals walking pneumonia? Whatever. It just seems like I should've said something to that large and in charge dude sitting next me but I was too busy looking inside his cockles as he blankly chewed his egg sandwiched open-mouthed. Deelish!

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