I really hate the phrase “girl crush” but if you asked me today who mine would be—other than Martha Stewart…okay, and Keri Russell—I’d say Sloane Crosley. I fought it for as long as I could because frankly, I’m so jealous of her that I want to brand her a wannabe David Sedaris and overlook her charming literary debut, I Was Told There’d Be Cake. She has the lifestyle I wish I could have and is the girl I wish I could be. She’s young, bright, sarcastic and witty, lives in NYC, has an already-established career in book publishing as a publicist, and she’s just published her own book. Her memoir is a collection of stories “loosely based” on her personal life that came to be when an email recounting a torturous day of moving went from one friend to the next until it eventually reached a publisher, who suggested she publish it. This is the part of her Cinderella story that all the naysayers take note of, crediting connections instead of talent for her achievement. As tempting as it is to concur, you simply can’t—she’s too darn funny. The first essay, “The Pony Problem”, lures you in. She’s a self-conscious, self-deprecating Jew from Jersey with a girlish obsession for plastic ponies. She’s dorky and instantly relatable—a “postmodern Mary Tyler Moore”, as one reviewer calls her. Her account of abuse by a Devil Wears Prada-esque boss makes you feel sorry for her; her admission of spending uncounted hours of her ’80s youth playing The Oregon Trail alone on the computer makes you thankful that you weren't the only one. But then you question your brief friendship after she loses you in the dust by writing about her mission to conquer a one-night lay and how calling a friend's loser boyfriend a "f***face" during a group dinner date resulted in a mysterious pile of poo on her bathroom floor. These are things even my alter ego would never do. She’s sassy, smart, and hysterical in her stories and in her writing. Not only that, oh no, but everyone loves her too. The Observer wrote a lengthy profile that hardly mentioned the book but focused on her shiny hair and big butt, her golden social life, her best friend Candace Bushnell (yes, brains behind Sex and the City) and how just about everyone can’t say enough good things about the girl. I thought she was a publicist?! Last but not least, HBO announced their purchase of the rights to a small screen adaptation. What?! Okay, enough. The fairy tale life that is Sloane Crosley would never be mine. Her bulletproof perfection started to depress and annoy me. UNTIL I went to her website and discovered that she made visuals of all her essays in the form of dioramas. Nerd alert!
