None of us New Yorkers want our colonoscopy performed by a lady wearing a plunging Roberto Cavalli leopard-print silk-chiffon caftan. When a medical professional is advancing upon you with a needle or a probe of any kind, you expect that person to be wearing confidence-inspiring garments, such as those designed by Eileen Fisher or Read More
My new therapist, Chiarna, has a kind of mid-90′s gallery-owner minimalist look going on: frenzied black curls, pale skin, small black plastic frames, dark burgundy Vamp lipstick and black (or black and white) clothing. I imagine her liking the designer Yeohlee and others who might use the adjectives “structural” or “architectural” in an interview.
Her Read More
My therapist and I had been together for three years, but I felt it was time to move on. I liked her, but every Tuesday afternoon our 50 minutes would just come and go.
I hated the diagonal commute, from my office in the East Village to hers on the Upper West Side. Two trains, Read More
