Atoosa Rubenstein: Res nullius
There's a precious moment in James Brady's most recent media column for Forbes. Jim hits up Hearst prez Cathie Black's holiday party and rubs elbows with the twiterati, running into a few old friends in the process.
I attempted to scribble a few notes while balancing a glass of very decent wine and exchanging trade chat and gossip with editors, publishers, writers and more or less famous Manhattan folk (Tom and Meredith Brokaw are among the neighbors usually invited). And there was the tall, striking Atoosa Rubenstein of Seventeen magazine, who had just been sacked, but who was being enthusiastically kissed by (soon to be former) boss Cathie. "Atoosa!" I cried in my best Jesuit-tutored Latin, "quo vadis?" No, she didn't yet know what she'd be doing next but seemed to be less upset by her own fate than over the shuttering of East Hampton's The Blue Parrot, where on occasion we've enjoyed a margarita. I wished her well and went off to greet Helen Gurley Brown [rambles on endlessly]...
Read that one over again, because we're pretty sure it's the first and only time you're going to see someone speaking Latin to, or in connection with, the 'Toos. Still, nice to know she's just as concerned about the Main Street Mexican joints of the Hamptons as she is about the kids.
