I shop at Kiehl's because I basically subsist on their samples. They're a bit stingier now than they used to be, but in 20 years, I've never bought an actual tube of hand cream! My secret is I don't go in and buy everything I need at once. I buy one thing at a time and load up on the samples. So those pretty salesgirls in their scientific-looking white coats may be trying to pull one over on me, but I'm actually bleeding them dry!
My mother, a devout Catholic and a woman in possession of a fine, substantial bosom, wore nude-colored wireless unlined bras. You could see her nipples from Mars. I predict that clearly defined nipples are going to make a roaring comeback, and that VS is going to start making bras with big, foam nipple-countouring nubs in the middle. At least, I hope so!
JK, though I completely disagree with your choices, I bow with awed reverence at your brilliant analysis; in fact I worship at the lap of your dirty genius.
It's a weird but fascinating menu. I detest Chevy Chase with all of my heart – yet was mildly persuaded that I might actually love him! And if you ever read/saw Shopgirl, Steve Martin is basically telling us that he is devoid of a soul, and romantically targets helpless youngsters half his age. And yes it WAS all about Bernadette Peters for me because, like, what isn't? And then there's the Bill Murray question; he's demi-god-like, but I don't think I could bear to marry someone that enigmatic and sad. I don't have that much stamina. I'd prefer to go over the Hugh/Rahm/Anthony menu again, it's far more invigorating. For me.
Bourdain? Meh, skeevy. But for Rahm, my lust is prodigious; it runneth over and over and over.