Snobs is written by Julian Fellowes, beloved author of one of my favorite Robert Altman films, Gosford Park. The English aristocracy is still in his sights as he takes us through the sometimes funny, sometimes pathetic life of Edith Lavery, a common girl with ambition who snags a wealthy but boring Earl with no thought to the consequences.

As it ends up, she is immediately bored with the cold, country houses and the exclusivity of her new peer group. Her mother-in-law, an elegant woman hardened into the perfect upper crust, is not her biggest fan as she is fully aware (as is most everyone) that Edith did not marry her son for love.

Soon Edith does find love (or so she thinks) with a mid level actor who's good in bed, vain, lively, and fun. The opposite of her new husband, Edith can't help but run off with him, leaving the world she spent so long climbing her way into in a state of scandal.

Still, Edith is not the only one to get a wry and critical eye from Fellowes, partly she's helped by the story's narrator, a remarkably charming young man who straddles the upper class and the world of actors. His voice lends a bit of sympathy to our gold digger and honesty to the foibles of an aristocracy that may not have the sheen and glamour one might expect.

If Fellowes had not peppered the book with a few references to the 1990s, I would have had a very difficult time placing the story historically. The idea of Earls and such is so foreign to myself (and to most Americans, I assume) that it was actually hard at first to picture all of this traditional snobiness still existing and meaning so very much to people.

Ultimately, it's not as complex and engaging as Gosford Park, but it's still a smart, entertaining and buoyant read about the rules of a strange and amusing society.

As a girl, it took me a long time to get into Neil Young and as much as I wanted to have my musical horizons broadened by my friend Bill and the greatly appreciated mix tapes he'd send me over the years (at different times in our lives he introduced me to Tricky, Radiohead, The Girl from Ipanema…) his inclusion of Old Man on one particular tape just left me faintly annoyed. Annoyed by the hard to love voice and annoyed that I just didn't get what the boys saw in it all.

The song that recently made me a believer is from the classic After the Gold Rush: Don't Let it Bring You Down. I like this song firstly because I feel that I can sing it exactly like he does (and I do at the top of my lungs erractically – of course, like some things that I assume I do well, this may not actually be the case) and secondly, it also happens to be the best song on the album and with the most vivid lyrics. The song that first started to change the tide long before that one was aided by Freaks and Geeks. I'd pretty much be able to fall in love with anything featured on that show, and Only Love Can Break Your Heart was an easy one – much easier than Old Man, because A. it's about love and not and old man, and b. It's just really pretty.

Pretty is a word I never associated with Young before, but After the Gold Rush, which is now becoming a fast favorite, is introducing me to a squishier side to the grizzled old time rocker. The names of some of these songs would make a lesser man seem sissy: “When You Dance You Can Really Love”, “I Believe in You”, “Oh, Lonesome Me”. It would seem that 1970 was a year of serious romance for Young, but in reality he was breaking up with his first wife Susan Acevedo who in this article is awesomely described as “A wild one? city chick.” And,?”Maybe the first women's libber.?She was in hate with men.” Here's a photo of her, dressed all in black as was her habit.

And who knows if he was already smitten with actress Carrie Snodgrass whom he later dedicated songs to and had a child with before things grew steadily more bitter at the time of writing these songs, but ideas about relationships and love were certainly pouring from his pen and on his mind.

Of course, so was social injustice by way of “Southern Man“, a song that angered the proud members of Lynyrd Skynyrd and prompted them to include this line in Sweet Home Alabama: “Well, I hope Neil Young will remember / A southern man don't need him around anyhow”.?Take that Neil – how dare you point out the woes of racism in the South! But contrary to my vision of the prolific singer songwriter, this album is not teeming with social commentary. In fact, there is quite a bit of joy to be heard here. Cripple Creek Ferry is the kind of song you could see the Country Bears singing and Till the Morning Comes is brief and wonderfully playful.

While now considered a classic, it didn't receive the warmest reaction from Rolling Stone (a magazine that's more relevant now than ever) when it came out. Their critic described Young's singing as “pre-adolescent whining” and claims, “I can't listen to it at all,” then goes so far as to condescend anyone who does like the album by saying, “Neil Young devotees will probably spend the next few weeks trying desperately to convince themselves that After The Gold Rush is good music. But they'll be kidding themselves”. What a jerk!

Bob Mackie's glitzy career reads like a kitschy drag queen fantasy: Vegas showgirls, Carol Burnett, Bette Midler, The Love Boat, Barbie, and of course Cher. He's been collaborating with the glamazon weirdo for decades and continues to dip her in diamonds to this day for her current Vegas production. And of course among other thrilling outfits, he is responsible for the show stopping Oscar dress and headdress she wore in 1988, you know back in the day when at least a few people attended the award show looking like they couldn't care less about the droning non-witticisms of the walking wax museum. Seriously, how many satiny floor length sheaths do we have to sit through?

Alas, those days are gone, and so is the extravagant era in which Mackie found so much success. His creations now seem quite quaint as we begin to dip into a god only know how long recession and tiger skin rugs dresses, albeit completely and totally awesome and fantastic in their drama, feel delightfully passe while still making me swoon. Take a look at Diana Ross and The Supremes for more of a walk down decadence lane of our forefathers.

So much fun can be had with the man and his designs. Trust me, searching for him online results in fabulous images and interviews (in some of which he uses the words “muffin top” –too cute) that make me think he's also a pretty nice guy. He prefers you just call him Bob opposed to his well deserved endearments “The Sultan of Sequins” and “The Raj of Rhinestones”.

As you can see, we had every right in the world to be skeptical of the Vinny Vella's Pizza fliers strewn across our apartment building hallway. Yes, that's a gun and a cross hanging from his neck in the caricature drawing!

But just like I had the vision to see a place I could call home out of a color block walled den of filth, porn, and Gilmore Girls screen savers (if I've never told you the story of the first time we saw our apartment, remind me the next time we meet) – I could, despite what seemed like the obvious, consider the preposterous idea that this would actually be good pizza and (unlike Fornino that totally abides by the silly “no delivery past McCarren” policy) one that we could have delivered to our front door.

Vinnie Vella is indeed a shining example of the phrase no reward without risk. The pizza is more than good. Friends have even declared that the Grandma's Favorite, which has fresh mozzarella and chopped up garlic, is the best pizza they've ever tasted! Yes, ever! And they weren't even that drunk. It's really remarkable, and you may not believe me, but the Grandma's crust is nice and thin without ever being crunchy (I can't stand crunchy bottom pizza – it calls to mind frozen junk), it features the?right amount of cheese, the sauce is present but not overwhelming and the garlic adds bite.

The only other pie I've tried and recommend is the Vodka. This one is heavier, and richer due to the creamy red sauce, but still a winner particularly when you end up with a bite with an unmistakable bacony kick. I can't recommend the white for being way too cheesy.

Vella himself is somewhat famous but to look at the vanity of his shop, you'd think he were DeNiro rather than a mobster character actor. A friend use to live next to him in Little Italy and everyday as she walked her puppy he'd stop every one hanging out on the stoop to announce “Hey, you know what dat is? A fox walking a fox!” So it seems he's also a comedian.

Not sure what prompted the man to open a pizza parlor but I am just glad he did. Never again to I have to bemoan the absurd lack of decent pizza available to us. Sorry Triangolo, while I loved the stories of Steven Seagal getting hummers down below in your restaurant, your slices made me pout.

Jim's work party was held at the yet to be opened City Winery that has had alchies (can we assume that's the drinker's equivalent of a foodie?) a buzz with it's high priced make your own wine in their vaults propositions.

I can't fairly remark too much on the place yet, because the crowd really has so much to do with the vibe, but I can say it's really huge and therefor makes you feel like you've left Manhattan to some magical place where people can afford that amount of real estate. It felt very Colorado actually.

I can also say that the food we ate was pretty great. I was a particular fan of the potato tarts and the chicken salad on an apple crisp (though I can't say if either of these will be on the real menu). The staff, also was top notch. It's clear that they want to create a welcoming, friendly and unpretentious vibe. It's one staff member in particular that I have to thank for today's entry.

When a lack of bitters rendered him unable to make me an old fashioned, he offered instead to make a bourbon and ginger ale with a twist of lemon. He also said I was a girl after his own heart and was just the right age and had just the right tone that it was endearing rather than creepy. Older men beginning to go gray are often pretty psyched to have youngin's's ordering bourbon for whatever reason.

I am just glad to have one for bourbon drink in my pocket and to have been reacquainted with Bulleit. I am usually a Maker's Girl, but plan to pick a bottle up when that stash dries out.

Every third Saturday of the month Murray's Cheese presents Cave Days – a brief thirty tour of their impressive underground caves. December's should be coming up, but check with their website to make sure because they might skip holiday months.

As you know, I am a huge, adoring fan of Murray's. I've been to a few of their beer and cheese tastings and have always come out raving with a new cheese or beer favorite. Those classes can be a bit pricey, though, so cave days is a nice quick and cheap mini version. And while the servings are less, there is a small tasting too.

You and a small group will be ushered down stairs past crates of goodies and workers going about their business. The basement seems to grow larger and larger than the shop above it. This is because, when Murray's moved from their original location across the street, they bought the surrounding buildings too. They rent out the upstairs to other shops and keep the lower depths for pure cheese heaven.

While not a huge operation, the caves, for which you have to disinfect your shoes before entering are still quite impressive. Four vaults with charming wood doors branch off a main room where a pleasant affineur named Zoe (who I might add is impressively fit for someone constantly surrounded by delicious cheese) begins your tour.

Behind the first door sit soft blooming cheeses, growing their appropriate molds getting ready for purchase above (to help it along cheese interns pat the fuzzy molds down daily). Here we got to try a nice, fresh goat cheese that our host cut with a piece of wire to prevent the normal crumble and sticking when you use a knife.

The next door doors holds wash rind cheeses and the strange, ammonia smells. The third was my favorite, with massive wheels of hard cheeses, a smell I could fall asleep in and have nothing but culinary delight dreams. We also got a tasting of the stupendous Swiss pressed cheese Scharfe Maxx. It's currently sold out at the website, but if you like sharp hard cheeses, this is the one for you.

The best thing about the tour is that you can just hop upstairs afterward and spend money on all the cheese you just saw.

In the sea of information and noise of the internet, there is something soothing and sophisticated about my little sojourns to the blog If Charlie Parker Were a Gunslinger, There'd be a Whole Lot of Dead Copycats (aka tsutpen.blogspot.com). I've begun to stop by the updated sight daily for a bit of calm that washes over me as I take in the hip and inspirational imagery the team of bloggers seek out.

The theme, if you had to apply one, seems to be all things of good taste. You'll find a great series of jazz album art (there's more than 80 images on the site, with this perhaps being my favorite as I do love Pretty things). I also love the impressively large collection of photos called When Legends Gather that feature images of iconic meetings like Linda Blair, Keith Moon and Linda Lovelace or Patti Smith and William S. Burroughs, or Marc Chagall and Golda Meir, or Francis Ford Coppola and Akira Kurosawa, or Rita Hayworth, Yves Montand and Ella Fitzgerald.. it's really enough to make your head spin wondering what they talked about, wishing you could be a time traveling fly on the wall.

They seem to share a fondness for the past which I can relate to, no shots of Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie are to be had here, their idea of a goddess is Joan Blondell (who you can see in glorious action in this week's movie pick The Gold Diggers of 1933). I've really only just begun to dig through their archives, and I already plan to loose hours of my life to it.

Sometimes an image has you begging for more information, but I think that's the real beauty behind this site, it's a great jumping off point to discovering new things. Just who is Audie Murphy??Is Kansas City Confidential one to watch? What's Beware the Man in Black all about (aside from being an awesome title)? And, oh lordy, I must found out more about Screaming Lord Sutch!!

I am quite sure this site will send me on travels online to lots of exciting people and things which I am sure will make it to the pages of this here blog soon enough, so in advance, thanks guys!

JC de Castelbajac has always been a royally delightful nut and he shows no signs of toning things down with this Lego presentation of his Spring/Summer 3001 Collection. It's bright, it's surreal, it's got a Lego version of (the perhaps the soon to be former editor of Vogue??) Anna Wintour! I love the finishing moves each dolled up toy top model makes at the end of the runway in their bone dresses, Kiss makeup, and retro nineties catchphrases.

The animation was broadcast on French channels during Paris Fashion Week.