the body of heather locklear and the mind of dorothy parker

who gets to be a critic?

i was listening to the every outfit of sex and the city podcast a few weeks ago and stopped in the middle of the grocery store upon hearing the hosts reveal that carrie bradshaw was initially pitched to be written as having “the body of heather locklear and the mind of dorothy parker.” an older woman rammed her cart in the back of my shin as i stood there with my mouth wide open thinking, “okay well i’m obsessed with THAT.” i am not going to get deep into the body politics of it all because frankly that should stay between myself and a paid professional nor will i debate whether carrie was successfully depicted as intended (she wasn’t, and i say this as a ferocious CB apologist); but, i have coincidentally been slowly reading dorothy parker’s collection of columns for the new yorker published between 1927 and 1928 which i HIGHLY recommend buying from mcnally jackson. for those who do not know (and i apologize in advance for explaining to the initiated) dorthy parker was a literary critic for publications such as vanity fair, life magazine, women’s home journal and was a founding member of the algonquin round table (i am sure this rings bells for anyone who took AP Lit in high school which i am guessing is a lot of you freaks) (MY freaks <3). most notably, she had a divisive column for the new yorker appropriately named constant reader, which was popularized by her deliciously vicious reviews that were so clever one could never fault her long enough before they are salivating for the next line. i have spent the past few months leisurely reading a column at a time in-between other books, knowing that eventually my dorothy well will run dry and i will have nothing that will make me audibly laugh out loud on my couch on a sunday morning. i think i feel so compelled to her writing because she is seldom maliciously cruel for the sake of it, instead she is simply insularly unapologetic in her judgement. never superfluous (unlike someone we all know…) (me) and a master at the art of self-deprecation inching the reader towards her instead of inflicting pity. she writes in a way that is confidently brilliant without being too self-effacing or pretentious as i find a lot of contemporary writing to be.

reading parker’s reviews in constant reader feel noticeably refreshing as we are constantly surrounded by the agreed upon Right books to read and the Right movies to watch; before we have chance to open the first page or press play we know how we “should” react given the tsunami of opinions of those who have elevated themselves as experts simply because they have a good vocabulary spat with conviction, leaving us to lick their spit off our cheeks hoping to absorb their intellect. i can instantly recognize painstaking look on a friend’s face when they didn’t love something that has a lot of buzz around it (i am america’s most wanted for doing this as i have a terrible habit of overzealously recommending things to my friends wrapped up with my opinion) (i’m working on it). dorthy parker writes in a way that is unabashedly herself and sticks to contrarian opinions even when they deviate from the polite collective, “I know the works of Professor Erkshine are enormously popular, and of large profit to the author. It is with many tremors that I can say I cannot like them. It is with real timidity that I whisper that Adam and Eve, his latest creation, seems to me even more tedious than its forerunners. Perhaps it would have been better if I had just gone on talking about paper-cutters. A paper-cutterr has no friends. I am, you see, a burned, even sizzled child. I know what happens when you hint, no matter how softly and with how many apologies for your own worm-like blindness, that you cannot like the books of certain authors whose friends are legion.”

i’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of packaging the polarizing mind of dorthy parker around something as enticing, inherently apologetic and simple as a hot body à la heather locklear. the first thing i am sure a lot of us do when we read something controversial is go to the profile of whoever wrote it, a disgusting side effect of living in 2025 instead of 1927, the innocent part of us wants to put a face to whoever wrote something so disruptive, the sinister part of us is instantly assessing their aesthetic palpability as if that changes the meaning behind their words. i imagine that sentences which can only be described as profoundly cruel and deliciously snarky would land a lot softer when told from a perfectly pouty mouth and perfect abs. i seethe in equal part jealousy over the words of parker and the appearance of locklear, licking up the crumbs of their achievements of the mind and the body i fall short on. the irony is that i’m writing this on my couch with my annotated copy of “constant reader” next to me, i’m drinking one of those bullshit functional beverages advertised for brain health, my phone is on do not disturb in an attempt to save my rapidly diminishing attention span, classical music is playing in the background all while my hair is tied up in a hair mask designed to make my hair as artificially blonde as possible, every limb aches from a tortuous workout class despite just booking another class at 7 a.m tomorrow, a stinging face mask is clawing its way into my pores, i reek of the self tanner i have admittedly relapsed using (and i’m never going back...), the tab open next to this draft is a google search of different red light therapy masks as a last attempt to ward off botox. we all agree that the pressure to “look hot” is unrealistic, reductive and marginalizing; yet every pilates class is booked with a full waitlist. on the fleshy surface i love the idea of balancing hotness with intellect under the guise of celebrating the duality of women, realistically i know it is just because the hotter you are the more people listen and the less they question.

i am a closeted opinionated and critical person, only letting my more contentious opinions drip out amongst safe spaces which i deem will spur discourse as opposed to offense. in my perfect world, those who come into my life leave tasting me in their throats as sweet and effervescent as strawberry soda despite how artificial it can sometimes be for the sake of politeness. we all have opinions that could be perceived as pretentious and hurtful to some, which makes my stomach turn for both the hypothetical harm inflicted and the potential loss of my perspective. recently, i was on a date with a guy who said something along the lines of making fun of girls who “go to corepower yoga and get sugared + bronzed spray tans.” he delivered this assuming i was Not That Type Of Girl and would find it funny (imagine…), but little did he know i go to corepower almost everyday and fucking love a spray tan. my initial split-second reaction was to be offended, then i took a step back and remembered he is someone who describes himself as being “born in SoCal, but culturally baptized in Japan.” (for context, he is unfortunately so hot which is how he gets away with regurgitating that line on sweet young girls still sticky from their sugared + bronzed spray tan) (again.. the unfortunate power of being hot… god we’re doomed) instead of letting his casual misogyny slip off my bronzed shoulder, i obviously had to do mental back flips to give myself a leg up to his throwaway comment which is exactly why i sink into the warm embrace of my friends who love me unconditionally as opposed to being subjected to the critical gymnastics of my shortcomings as perceived by others.

to be a (good) critic at any level requires the strength of un-likability which i lack. at the end of the day, i am a proponent of people being able to do whatever makes them happy because we are all spinning on a rock with conflated senses of self-importance thanks to the internet and i am also a proponent of being able to say critical things for the sake of the texture which keeps our lives interesting in the hope that we can all have the self-respect to stand where our feet are. maybe one day i’ll be able to ease the anxiety of potentially maligning someone else’s joy with my thoughts. maybe one day i’ll be able to say all the things i want to say because i’ll finally be hot enough.

a few favorite dorothy parker quotes from constant reader

“But as Mrs. Colby comes into the swing of her bitter and swift story, she ceases to cry “Woolf” (I have been trying to work that in ever since I started this thing, and now I see for myself that it wasn’t really worth it.”

“Until today, I walked square-shouldered among my fellows, looking them in the composite eye, and said in unshaken tones: ‘Anyway, there are two things I have never done. I never resisted an officer, and I never read anything by Cosmo Hamilton.’ Today only the first half of that ringing boast is true. I made, as usual, the wrong selection.”

“Anyway, there is this to be said for a volume such as Professor Phelps’s Happiness. It is second only to rubber duck as the ideal bath-tub companion. It may be held in the hand without causing muscular fatigue or nerve strain, it may be neatly balanced back of the faucets, and it may be read through before the water has cooled. And if it slips down the drain pipe, all night, it slips down the drain pipe”

“It is that word ‘hummy,’ my darlings, that marks the first place in The House at Pooh Corner at which Tonstant Weader Fwowed up.” in reference to Winnie The Pooh’s use of ‘hummy’ in place of ‘honey’

“I can not, with the slightest sureness, tell you if it will sweep the country, like ‘Main Street,’ or bring forth yards of printed praise…My guess would be that it will not. Other guesses I which I have made in the past half-year have been that Al Smith would carry New York state, that St. John Ervine would be a great dramatic critic for an American newspaper, and that I would have more than twenty-six dollars in the bank on March 1st. So you see my my confidence in my judgment is scarcely what it used to be.”

“But I give you my word, in the entire book there is nothing that cannot be said aloud in mixed company. And there is, also, nothing that makes you a bit wiser. I wonder - oh, what you will think of me- if those two statements do not verge upon the synonymous.”

“She has not overcome the writer’s constant temptation to make the good utterly good; yet, in her bad characters she faithfully puts those queer streaks of the noble that are always there in the life. (I wrote that last sentence like a book-reviewer. This thing is getting me. i should have stopped before this and gone back to my job of cleaning out ferry boats)”

“History of Anthony Waring reads like a scenario for a novel, so economical, so stingy, even, is the manner of its telling. Here is a simplicity too conscious, too dogged, to make for power; vividness is hereon longer. Her style has become, and I wish I were lying when I say it, a reduction to absurdity”

“There have been times, in reading some worshipper’s life story of his living dream-prince, where I have felt it to be only delicate to close the book and tiptoe from the room, it was so apparent that the writer would rather be left alone with his subject”

i edited this after getting accidentally kind of drunk because it was 60 degrees in new york, it may have more typos than usual…

would love any (respectful) feedback, thank you for reading !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!