Candace Bushnell interview

Candace Bushnell interview, copyright Victoria Mary Clarke, 2003-09-03

“It was soooo passé to be stuck in traffic on the way out to the Hamptons, especially if you were a supermodel.”
Janey Wilcox, the heroine of Candace Bushnell’s newest book “Trading Up’ is an ageing but upwardly mobile lingerie model, desperate to land herself a billionaire in the piranha pit that is New York High Society. She knows that if she had that extra million, she would be in a seaplane, just like all the rich men that she knows, instead of caught on the freeway with the general public.
Candace is also the author of the enormously popular ‘Sex and the City”book and television series, and she is perhaps more aware than most of the maxim that noi matter how successful you think you are, there is always someone more successful, richer and more famous. Trying to compete in a world where even holidaying in the wrong square inch of the ultra-upmarket resort that is New York’s Hamptons could mean you don’t get into the club. This is a world that very few of us in Ireland know anything about, after all, as Candace puts it to me later, women like Janey Wilcox, even if thy did come from Ireland would move to New York or London or Aspen. I am thrilled and a little bit terrified to be meeting her today, because even though I am as addicted to ‘Sex and the City’ as the next girl, I can’t help being a little bit repulsed by the notion of a world where merit depends on wearing the right label.
She walks into the Shelbourne wearing Prada shoes. The most spectacular pair of multi-coloured shoes, that draw your attention immediately to her feet. Which is an odd thing, to find yourself staring at a woman’s feet instead of at her face.
‘Fabulous shoes,’ I congratulate her, looking down as we shake hands. She thanks me, graciously. I stand with Olaf Tyarensen-who has just interviewed her-both of us checking her out from feet to rear end, to head. Long, sleek, tanned legs, a long sleek, tanned torso, in skin-tight beige. Long, shiny blonde hair.
‘Great shoes,” Olaf agrees.
‘The rest of hers not bad either,’ I say.
Margaret, Candace’s publicist, has warned me that Candace is losing her voice. And as she will be appearing on the first episode of the Eamon Dunphy show later, that could be a calamity. I suggest a gargle with cider vinegar and honey. Candace light s a cigarette. She’s been doing a lot of talking she says, but she’ll do her best not to growl.
The voice, when she speaks, is deep, very loud and very, very New York. This is a woman who is absolutely certain of herself and you will be, too, if you talk to her. More Kim Cattrall than Sarah Jessica Parker. After ordering an energy drink, at my suggestion, she’s ready to talk business. I stare, for a moment, transfixed by the reality of so much glamour and such a sleek, unlined appearance (she’s forty three, I have to remind myself. But where is the evidence?)
And then it comes to me. The question. What would you do, I ask, if you couldn’t look good?
“I think my life would probably be very similar, “ she says, a little defensive. ‘I would be a writer. Being a writer is the one profession where you feel like you don’t need to worry about your looks.”
It does help, though. Later, I watch her bedazzle Dunphy, with her yards of leg and long blonde hair and wonder how he would have reacted to a dumpy brunette with the same book to flog.
“It can work against you more than it helps you. People don’t really expect writers to be attractive, do they? If a woman is attractive, then she can’t be serious. So I’m probably battling that more than it helps.”
Maybe, I say, doubtfully. Thinking that ‘Sex and the City” fans would be disappointed if Candace didn’t live up to their expectations. But what would you do, I persist, if somebody waved a wand and said Now Candace you have to be fat and ugly?
“I would continue on exactly as I am,’ is her immediate response.
You wouldn’t be able to fit into those clothes, I remind her. She sighs, resignedly.
“In America, we all pretty much wear what we want. Whatever you feel comfortable in.’ she assures me. And then, sensing I’m not buying this she turns the tables.
‘I could ask you the same question.”
I confess that it would make an enormous difference to me, that I’m not sure I could deal with it. I was worried about meeting you, I tell her, because I thought you would think I looked a mess. She relaxes. If I’m going to be real, she can be real, too. I get the impression that Canface is a woman who longs to be frank, but lives in a world where that’s really not how they play the game.
“The reality of life is that people are not thinking about you as much as you think they are. There must be quite a lot of comfort in that.”
The world that she writes about is a world that’s very superficial, I say. And instantly she is defensive again.
“To tell you the truth, I think that just because people are in a world where they are concerned about what clothes they are wearing, that doesn’t make them superficial. What about people who are concerned about their gardens? Or their decorating? You are obviously interested in clothes.”
Yes, I say, but that doesn’t mean I’m not superficial.
“Children have to have the right sneakers,’ Candace argues. “It’s really about the human desire to fit in, isn’t it? It’s human nature. And if everyone else is wearing Prada, you can feel like you are a member of a certain group by wearing Prada.”
Candace has been part of the happening New York set ever since she left her home town of Glastonbury, Conetticut and set out on her journey to fame and fortune. When she first arrived in the Apple, aged eighteen and determined to be an actress, she took up with a famous film director in his fifties. Later, she got involved with Ron Gallotti, the publisher of Vogue, who formed the basis for “Mr Big’ in her book. She dated a series of men, including Bob Guccione, the owner of “Penthouse”, but none of them would commit. Candace got revenge by writing a column about her escapades and about the ‘toxic bachelors” she encountered, the column was published in the “New York Observer” and was a huge hit. It spawned a book, a television show and the fame and fortune that she had always wanted. But she had given up on finding love until last year, when she met Charles Askegard, a thirty four year old principal dancer with the New York Ballet. They fell in love and were married on her forty third birthday. But she still believes that human beings shouldn’t automatically believe that they are going to be loved.
“I see a lot of women who are disappointed that a big romantic love hasn’t happened. But the truth is that there are parents who don’t love their children. And one of the tenets of “Sex and the City” was that there are all these great women in New York and there aren’t any men coming along, falling in love with them. Why? They deserve it!”
I think I can pinpoint the problem, I say. Aren’t they all just a wee bit self-absorbed?
“Yes but people do feel that they deserve to be loved, despite their shortcomings. And I don’t think we are the ones to make judgements about who deserves to be loved and who doesn’t.”
What’s your guy like? I ask. Does he love you?
“Absolutely. We just looked at each other and there was a big spark. It’s the kind of thing that could happen to anybody, anywhere. It could happen to you at a gas station. It happened to me at a time where I had decided that if I didn’t meet the right guy and I didn’t get married, it would be okay. I am doing the things that I would do anyway and that are really important to me.”
What would they be? She laughs.
“Unfortunately, mostly only writing. I don’t have any hobbies, to tell you the truth. I’ve tried to do a bit of decorating and I can do it for maybe a week, but that’s all! My friendships are what’s important to me.”
Does she do lunch with her girlfriends, like in the show?
“As often as I can! When something really good happens, we go to lunch and have a couple of glasses of wine and gossip and feel very rich!”

She smokes and drinks and doesn’t bother with exercise. But she’s in fantastic shape as could be seen on the Dunphy show. Now for the really big question. Does she have a lot of things done?
“No. I don’t.” I know this is patently untrue, so I persist.
What kinds of things might you have done?
“Oh, one has facials occasionally.”

Botox?

“Maybe a bit of Botox.” She decides to come clean.
“That’s what it is, actually. New York is a place where women look young and when you are in a place where that’s a reality, you do tend to do it. In New York, if you to a big event, all the women have had their hair and make-up done by professionals because they know they are going to be photographed.”
Does it pay off, to put in a lot of effort in New York?
“There’s a certain kind of rich guy who wants his wife to always look perfectly turned out.”
A trophy wife?
“Yes.”
We are interrupted, at this point by a group of ‘Women’s Right to Choose’ campaigners, who tell Candace that they are really big fans of “Sex and the City” and that it’s a very feminist show.
“I think it’s very empowering to women, “ she agrees.
Especially the sex toys, I say. The show talks about things we wouldn’t dream of talking about, normally.
“You know what? That’s the kind of thing that my girlfriends and I always talk about.”
In the most recent episode of ‘Sex and the City,” Carrie gets dumped by post-it-note. I mention that I think this is highly original.
“Oh yes, that’s one of my favourite episodes!” Candace has been dumped quite a few times, she says and is willing to share with me her top tips for getting over it.
“Accept the fact that you weren’t right for each other and it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s important to remember that when you look back on it, you are probably going to be glad that it ended! And I think it’s good to try to become friends with the person as quickly as possible because it does take away a bit of the sting. It gets easier as you get older, because you do understand that it’s really not about you. It’s about something to do with them and you can’t control other people’s feelings. You can’t make somebody love you.”
Now that she’s married, does you believe that there is somebody out there for everybody? Even those New York singletons?
There’s a long pause.
“ I think there’s a degree of luck involved. But sometimes we just aren’t ready to be in a relationship, even if we think we are. Sometimes there are things we need to figure out by ourselves. And what I’ve noticed is that once you get to a certain point in your life where you accept yourself and your life, that’s when you meet a guy. And that might not happen until you are in your forties. You have relationships when you are ready to have relationships, not when society tells you that you should.”
Candace Bushnell, the ultimate New Yorker, is well and truly ready.