Unlike most American women, I don’t have a thing for shoes. I know, unbelievable right? I mean I like and certainly wear them, but to me, shoes are just another accessory. Scoring The Perfect Pair doesn’t make my heart race.
My thing is for books. I always have several going at a time, and like a chain smoker, the first one is barely finished before I light into a fresh one. When I board an airplane, I carry three with me: 1) the one I am currently reading, 2) another in case I finish the first, and 3) a third in case the second turns out to be a dud. I even pay to belong to an incredible library in another state (lest you think I am totally off-the-wall, it’s only 15 minutes from my home) just to take out all the latest best-sellers, and let me tell you, it’s the best money I’ll ever spend. I get a palpable rush when I pick up a stack of the latest I’ve put on reserve.
And while it’s true I read voraciously, don’t think I am doing so solely to broaden my intellectual horizons; my oeuvre of choice is all over the Dewey Decimal System, from Princess Di bios and the Devil Wears Prada-derivatives (I work for a magazine, after all), to a mix of non-fiction (I just finished The Feminine Mistake) and fiction by such authors as Cathleen Schine (I’m reading The New Yorkers now), Anita Shreve (just finished Body Surfing), Maeve Binchy, etc.
So, what’s your non-shoe drug of choice? And what are you reading these days?