Budget Fabulous

Flaca

Yoli Garcia lived down on Abdella Street in West Tampa, over by the Humane Society, round the corner from Cacciatore’s market. The youngest daughter of Cuban immigrants, Yoli was much admired in her day for two things: her legendary beauty and her impossibly tiny 18-inch waist. “Just like Scarlett O’Hara,” the women of Tampa would recite whenever Yoli’s name was mentioned, with a mixture of genuine admiration and thinly veiled envy. Yoli’s miniature midsection earned her the nickname Flaca, Spanish for “skinny”. Nobody ever called her by her god-given name. She was Flaca until the day she died. Quite funny, considering poor Flaca was only truly “flaca” for precisely a nanosecond. With the birth of her beloved only son Baby (pronounced “Bobby” in Spanglish), those 18 inches turned into 50, and stayed that way forever more. I don’t think anyone was trying to be ironic. It’s just that everyone always knew her as Flaca, the girl with the 18-inch waist. No one seemed to notice that she now had thrice that amount. It was of little consequence. It was just a Tampa kind of thing.

Now poor Flaca did not have much in the way of talent or intellect, and as we’ve already established, her beauty faded early. What she could do like no one else was throw a FABULOUS party. Flaca was a rock-star party-giver. A Latina Elsa Maxwell. Her parties were well planned, ridiculously thematic, and WAY over the top, with le tout West Tampa always in attendance. One year she decided to do a “Chop Suey” theme (one could never accuse Flaca of political correctness). The entire house was decorated with paper lanterns and tacky inflatable dragons. She served “authentic” Chinese food like mini-egg rolls and water chestnuts with pineapple, wrapped in bacon. She pinned a miniature pagoda to the top her huge beehive hairdo and wore what has to have been the world’s largest Chi Pau. As a young boy who didn’t quite understand why he felt so “different”, this fashion aspect of Flaca’s theme parties fascinated me the most. I couldn’t wait for the next party just to see what she would wear! I once asked her why she dressed up so much for her parties. She answered “Because, mijo, Flaca always must look chic!” She pronounced “chic” like “cheek” and then gave mine a pinch till it turned blue. Why do Cuban women always do that to little boys?

Flaca’s crowning achievement was her Christmas Party, 1978. This is when I realized it was Flaca’s world and we just lived in it. As we walked into the little house on Abdella Street, which always smelled of onions, Flaca swooped around a corner with a tray of picadillo in one hand, balanced on one very large hip, and a pitcher of the world’s most lethal sangria in the other. She was singing at the top of her lungs (to nobody in particular), “We witch-you a Merry Cree-Ma and Appy Niuyear!” Her beehive this time was adorned, not with pagodas, but with huge blinking Christmas lights, powered by a small battery pack rigged to her huge butt. She was sweating profusely and shorting out one bulb after another. But she had backups that she kept running around with, asking every male party guest to help her install a fresh bulb. “Es-screw me in, mijo. Es-screw me!”

It doesn't get any better than Flaca.

Anderson Cooper Shirtless

This makes me hot.

B-Fab's First Hockey Game

He's been a New York Rangers fan since he could walk. He loves hockey. It's his thing. On a recent Thursday night, he decided to share his passion with his sports-retarded (but fabulously attractive) gay boyfriend. He has lived to regret that decision.

ME: Wow! There are so many people here! I didn't know that many people came to these things. The Rangers must be pretty popular, huh? Now tell me every single thing about the game, so that when it starts I'll be all caught up. Why is it so COLD in here? I know there's ice and all, but would it really melt if it were just a few degrees warmer? Will I look gay if I keep my coat on? I'm STARVING. How long do these things usually last? You know, there should be more low-carb options at the snack bar. Mm, this beer actually tastes good. I mean, usually I hate beer, but this one is pretty good. Why don't they serve some nice California wines too? Does everyone like beer except me? It's so fattening. Oh god, WHY is it so COLD in here? Aren't you cold? Oh look, it's starting! Are they going to do the National Anthem? It always make me cry, you know. Oh look it's Uncle Junior from the Sopranos! HE'S going to sing the National Anthem?! Omigod, that's FABULOUS! I didn't know they got real celebrities to do that. Omigod, does that mean there are celebrities here? Should I go around my with my camera and look for famous people? Okay, it's starting. Now. Tell me what's happening. Which ones are the Rangers? Why are people shouting? Did something happen? I can't SEE anything? I can't see what they're even hitting at. You know, the...thingy...

HIM: Puck.

ME: Right! The puck. I can't see the puck. Where is it? You know, maybe it should come in colors or have twinking lights so you can see it. Actually, isn't that a great idea? It could be like a disco-puck. Do you think they have a suggestion box? Or an email address? Actually, I should just invent one myself and get rich, right? Why give away a good idea like that? Don't you think it's a good idea, honey? Why are you making that face? Now see look, I don't understand, the score changed. Did the Rangers just score a basket?

HIM: Goal.

ME: Goal, right, whatever. Did they shoot the puck into the other team's basket?

HIM: Net.

ME: Net. Did they? I didn't see anything! God, why is everyone here so unattractive? I mean, it's hard to believe we're in Manhattan, isn't it? I mean, helllooo, did we make a wrong turn at Fugly City? These girls have such big butts. I can't believe it. And the guys are so NOT hot. I thought you said hockey games are hot. These guys all look like they have restraining orders or something. And everyone is so hyper! Omigod, look at the big TV screen! Who is Henrik Lundqvist? He's fucking hot. Now I see why you think hockey is so great. It's the players. He's hot. Now what is his job on the team? Oh, I see, never mind, it says "Goalie". Why does everyone think he's so great? They're all shouting about him. It looks to me like he doesn't have a lot to do. He just stands there the whole time, and when the thingy gets too close to his basket, he just kind of blocks the basket and...

HIM: It's a NET.

ME: Right, sorry, net. Anyway, it seems to me he is underutilized. While he's waiting for the puck-thingy, he could be sweeping up or something. Does he make less money than the rest of the players since he doesn't have to skate around and all? Like after the game, they must be all be so exhausted from all that skating, but he probably can go out dancing! He's probably at Cain while the rest of the team is lying in their bunks. So he should make less money, don't you think? Why are you rolling your eyes? God, I am REALLY cold. I'm surprised it's so cold up here. You know, heat rises and all. What do you think would happen if all of a sudden it got really hot in here? Do you think they would keep going with game? I mean, the show must go on, right? Would they take off their skates and just bat the puck around in a couple of inches of water? Did you ever think about that? Wow! Did you see that? That guy hit the puck so hard it bounced on the ice. I guess the puck is kind of spongey, right? Oh look, cotton candy! Isn't that retro? Fabulous. Look, that woman is going to buy some. Umm, honey, do you really think you should? Maybe a lowfat yogurt would be a better option, okaaaay? Okay, so it's halftime, how long between this and the next act?

HIM: Period.

ME: Period! Right. Why are those guys dressed like pucks? Isn't that funny? Don't the cheerleaders come out at some point? I'm starving, should I go get something to eat? I'm SOOOO hungry. But how long till it's over? Are we going out to eat after this? I don't want to ruin my dinner. How many carbs do think are in one of those big pretzels? I better not, a pretzel would inflate in my stomach with all that beer and then I won't want to eat dinner. Look, there's the Zamboni thing! Wow, it really does clean off the ice doesn't it? I always thought it was more for show than anything. What? I'm from Florida, what do you expect? But seriously, look at how smooth the ice is after the Zamboni thingy goes over it. Isn't that great? Sometimes I wish I had a "Life Zamboni", so that when life gets a little bumpy, I could just ride my Zamboni and smooth everything all out. That would be a good blog entry wouldn't it? The Life Zamboni. Okay it's starting again. Omigod! Did you notice, the Rangers switched sides with the other team! That's SO confusing. I've been rooting for the wrong team! Why do you suppose they switched sides? You know, consistency would be the best option here. You wouldn't want to confuse your fans, would you? Omigod, why are people shouting? What happened? Did they make another point? I missed it!

HIM: So did I [sigh].

ME: Oh sorry, I guess I've been talking too much. Am I distracting you? My fault. Okay, I'll be quiet from now on. ... So anyway, why do you think they... What's the matter?

CLICK HERE TO SEE PICTURES OF MY FIRST RANGERS GAME >>

B-Fab's Look of the Week

One very snappy style we've been working lately around the B-Fab offices is this Cholo-Fabulous doo-rag look. We've been feeling very "La Raza" lately. Designed by Bootsy (seen here doing the Macarena), this simple bandana (which comes in a rainbow of colors) is the solution to many fashion dilemmas. Aside from allowing you to show your gang colors, the Bootsy Babushka can mask a hair-challenged head (not that we know anything about that), it can offer a fashionable alternative to your sheidel on Shabbos, and it can even keep the perspiration from rolling into your eyes while pedalling madly on the elliptical at the gym (again, not that we even have a clue what THAT's like). I wear mine simply because it looks fabulous and it enhances my incredibly attractive features. I know, I know, it's hard to believe anything could possibly improve upon these looks. Well, nothing can, actually. But even those of us who are blessed with incredible genetics can benefit from proper accesorization. Accessories make the man. Yes they doo.

Rich

Jordanian heiress, Farah Rifai, in front of her limousine outside Jean Georges

You may have noticed we here at Budget Fabulous have a keen interest in all matters financial. Our ultimate fantasy is to dive into an Olympic-sized swimming pool filled with money. Naked. With Anderson Cooper. Also naked. And we firmly believe the one surefire way to achieve optimal Budget Fabulosity is to have rich friends to sponge off. I mean REALLY rich friends. Not just people that "make good money." I’m talking about the super rich. The Richer than Dirt Rich. The Richer than Croesus Rich (just exactly who IS Croesus?). When you have really rich friends, especially ones who are so rich they don't actually have to work, they always pay the restaurant bill because they feel so guilty knowing how hard you had to work just to afford one scrumptious bite of fugu. Acquire enough of these friends and you'll be Budget Fabulous the rest of your life. It’s really that simple. Oh yes, and they should be attractive. You certainly wouldn’t want to be seen mooching off... I mean, hanging out with someone who doesn't look fabulous, would you?

We wanted to find out what it's really like to take champagne baths and throw money off the balcony to the peasants, so we sat down at Jean Georges with the most fabulously wealthy woman we know: Jordanian heiress and jewelry designer Farah Rifai. We ordered a bottle of really expensive Bordeaux--her treat--and started talking about the benefits of wealth. Farah, who speaks with an accent that could only be the result of an expensive British education, was wearing a vintage Chloe fur-trimmed coat (it’s vintage so it’s okay, the animal already died for someone else) an Hermes scarf, jewelry of her own design, and Joy (the world’s costliest perfume) at all her pulse points. As always, she looked fabulous.

Budget Fabulous: So, Farah, how much money do you have?
Farah Rifai: Tons! Millions. And millions and millions. It’s one of those abstract things that you couldn’t possibly wrap your head around. I know I have millions, but I can’t begin to tell you how many. Let’s just say I’m ‘comfortable’ [both laugh]. I don’t have to be careful at the grocery store [both laugh].
B-Fab: So you’re not clipping coupons from the Sunday paper? [Both laugh]. Okay, let’s get serious. How much is in your checking account right now?
FR: [Laughing] that’s an even better question! You’ll fall over if I tell you. 
B-Fab: Tell me.
FR: [Still laughing] You’d be surprised how little is in there!
B-Fab: How little?
FR: I think right now I have about $800 in my checking account. Isn’t that funny? And I’m super-rich! Of course, all it would take is two phone calls and I could have a million in there tomorrow (or maybe the next day), but right now, I only have access to about $800 in cash. This is what I mean: money is an abstract concept. If I had no credit cards on me, and I landed in jail tonight, and the bail was $801, I would be screwed. I would be an inmate. I’d be cozying up to the prison matron right now, asking “how’s tricks, honey?” Peddling a smile and a show of leg for a cigarette. And I don’t even smoke!
B-Fab: I’d loan you the extra dollar. With interest. [Both laugh out loud]. So Farah, which is better, rich or poor?
FR: Rich. Definitely.
B-Fab: But do you actually have a frame of reference? I mean, you were born rich, after all.
FR: Yes I do have a frame reference. In my twenties my parents cut me off for a period of time.
B-Fab: Why?!
FR: Well, I rebelled, and they hated that. This was about a year after I moved to New York. I mean, they highly disapproved of my move to the US. I was a good Jordanian girl. It was expected I marry a wealthy, progressive Muslim man. Instead, I said “Look, I’m 20, I’m too young to get married, and I like American men better than Middle Eastern men, and I just want to have fun!” In fact I used to hear that Cyndi Lauper song, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun”, it was popular that year, so it was playing in every cab, in every club, on every radio station. I would hear it and sing along with the lyrics and think “this is MY song. I totally relate!”
B-Fab: So what happened?
FR: So they cut me off!
B-Fab: What did you do?
FR: Well...this is going to sound very bratty, but I actually had to get a job.
B-Fab: How awful! What kind of job did you get?
FR: Well, as jobs go, this was probably about the most fabulous job a young girl in New York could have had at the time. I worked as a sales person at Fiorucci!
B-Fab: Oh that’s perfect!
FR: It was perfect. It combined all of my interests at the time. Fashion was, and still is, a huge obsession of mine. And I was highly connected to the club scene. So I would go into work, late, and hang out all day looking at clothes and chatting with all the customers, who were actually all the people I knew from the clubs. So it was great. I hated working, but it was actually quite fun, and I stayed very socially connected through Fiorucci.
B-Fab: Yeah, everybody used to come through Fiorucci. It’s where you shopped for an outfit before hitting the clubs. I’ll bet you saw everybody!
FR: Absolutely. It was funny. I’d see everyone at the clubs the night before, then I’d see them at Fiorucci during the day, then at the clubs again that night. It was a wild time. Madonna used to come in a lot, before she was famous of course. She bought those famous rubber bracelets at Fiorucci.
B-Fab: Do you ever see her now, socially I mean, and say “Gee, Madonna, remember me, I used to work at Fiorucci and, like, now I’m really rich again and now you’re rich too and famous, and blah blah blah? Look how far we’ve come, blah blah blah?
FR: Actually yes, except I say it in a much less retarded manner than that. [Both scream in laughter!] I do see Madonna a lot, though we are not friends. In London mostly. You know, at Stella’s (McCartney), at Gwyneth’s (Paltrow) and sometimes at the Collections, Fashion Week, that sort of thing. She’s sweet. She doesn’t remember me as the shopgirl from Fiorucci, that’s for sure. She probably thinks “Who’s the chick with all the jewelry?” [Both absolutely squeal with laughter].
B-Fab: So, do you get laid a lot because you’re rich?
FR: No. If anything, I’m super picky about whom I shag. I mean, I’ve had my fair share of starving artists, but I’ve moved past that stage of my life. Now I pull a Dun & Bradstreet on anyone I’m considering for a shag. [Laughs] Not really, I’m kidding, but I need to know that whoever he is, it’s not just a money-f*ck. I have no desire to support charities that aren’t tax deductible or that don’t have a yearly gala. [Both laugh]
B-Fab: What’s your favorite position in bed?
FR: You are cheeky, my friend. What’s that got to do with Budget Fabulous?!
B-Fab: We want to know if rich people do the nasty differently.
FR: I won’t go into extraordinary detail here... Let’s just say I like to be on top. [Both laugh outloud, peeing].
B-Fab: Not me honey, I’m what the “thespians” call a pillow queen.
FR: I know what that means. You like to lay back and...
B-Fab: And enough about me! How’s your new jewelry business going?
FR: Swimmingly. Thank you for asking. I’m working on a new line for Loree Rodkin right now. I’ve been flying out to LA for meetings and design brainstorms and such. Simultaneously I’m working with an agency on a website and other marketing materials. I was just telling a friend the other day that for someone who doesn’t need to work, I’m certainly busting my ass with all this marketing and advertising. I’m finding it hard to carve out enough time in the day to actually design the jewelry. It feels like every other minute I’m having to approve something the agency’s sent over, or I’m on a conference call with Loree, or worse yet, I’m on a plane to LA!
B-Fab: How do you keep your skin looking so young and dewy with all that air travel? Airplane air is so drying.
FR: Isn’t it though? I use Chanel Précision Hydramax + for intensive moisturizing in problem areas. And I use two La Prairie products: Skin Caviar Luxe Crème as my nighttime moisturizer and something called “The Smart Crème” for day, under my makeup. And I always carry an Evian “brumisateur” with me in my purse. On the New York to LA flight, I must spray my face a hundred times with that thing. It makes you glisten without ruining your makeup.
B-Fab: That’s so interesting. Let’s talk about the other things you buy and enjoy. What about champagne and caviar?
FR: Well, I’m sure you’re thinking I’m going to say something like Krug Clos du Mesnil. And you’d be right, Krug is fabulous, but my everyday champagne is Bolly. Definitely Bolly.
B-Fab: And caviar?
FR: Iranian Beluga, definitely.
B-Fab: I thought you can’t really get Iranian caviar in the U.S. anymore.
FR: I’m Middle Eastern. I have connections. [Both laugh].
B-Fab: What are your favorite restaurants?
FR: In New York?
B-Fab: In New York.
FR: There are so many! Umm, well I wish I could say something clever and ironic like “the cheap Italian joint around my corner”, but I have to go the expected place on this one. I love Per Se. And I love Alain Ducasse. I really do. I do, however, think they are both overpriced. I took a friend from LA to Per Se, she’s a vegetarian, and we paid $150 for her veggie plate! I mean, c’mon veggies are veggies. Let’s see...
B-Fab: What about McDonald’s or Burger King? Have you ever in your life eaten at either of those? This is what I want to know. Do rich people ever eat at McDonald’s?
FR: Yes. I actually love hamburgers. I mean, McDonald’s does not have a good hamburger by any means. It’s just there’s something so delicious about it. I can’t put my finger on it. The grease? The salt? I don’t know. It’s a pretty rare occasion when I walk into a McDonalds, maybe once a year, but yes I have eaten there. I love the fries! I love greasy food, but I never eat it. It makes you fat.
B-Fab: Tell me about it. What about the subway? I know you have a chauffer, but...
FR: Mr. Moose I call him.
B-Fab: Why?
FR: I don’t know. He just looks like a Mr. Moose. He's huge.
B-Fab: So do you ever ride the subway?
FR: ALL THE TIME!
B-Fab: You’re kidding.
FR: No I’m not. I ride it all the time. It is the fastest way to get around New York. I love the subway.
B-Fab: Me too.

The waiter interrupted and asked if we wanted another bottle of wine, but Farah had to get home. She was flying out again in the morning to LA. She paid the check with a black Amex Centurion card and we were on our way. She had dismissed Mr. Moose earlier so he could go home to his family. It was his daughter’s birthday. We started hunting for a cab.

FR: On second thought, I think I’ll just walk home.
B-Fab: Well, yes, it is a nice night tonight.
FR: Yes. And I really should save the money!
[Both laugh hysterically!]