I Used to Be Charming: The Rest of Eve Babitz (New York Review Books Classics)

An NYRB Classics OriginalWith Eve’s Hollywood Eve Babitz lit up the scene in 1974. The books that followed, among them Slow Days, Fast Company & Sex & Rage, have seduced generations of readers with their unfailing wit & impossible glamour. What is less well known is that Babitz was a working journalist for the better part of three decades, writing for the likes of Rolling Stone, Vogue, & Esquire, as well as for off-the-beaten-path periodicals like Wet: The Magazine of Gourmet Bathing & Francis Ford Coppola’s short-lived City. Whether profiling Hollywood darlings, getting to the bottom of health crazes like yoga & acupuncture, remembering friends & lovers from her days hobnobbing with rock stars at the Troubadour & art stars at the Ferus Gallery, or writing about her beloved, misunderstood hometown, Los Angeles, Babitz approaches every assignment with an energy & verve that is all her own.I Used to Be Charming gathers nearly fifty pieces written between 1975 & 1997, including the full text of Babitz’s wry book-length investigation into the pioneering lifestyle brand Fiorucci. The title essay, published here for the first time, recounts the accident that came close to killing her in 1996; it reveals an uncharacteristically vulnerable yet never less than utterly charming Babitz.Eve Babitz (1943–2021) was the author of several books of fiction, including Sex & Rage: Advice to Young Ladies Eager for a Good Time, L.A. Woman, & Black Swans: Stories. Her nonfiction works include Fiorucci, the Book & Two by Two: Tango, Two-Step, & the L.A. Night. She has written for a variety of publications including Ms. & Esquire & in the late 1960s designed album covers for the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, & Linda Ronstadt. NYRB Classics publishes Eve's Hollywood, Slow Days, Fast Company, & I Used to Be Charming. Previously uncollected nonfiction pieces by Hollywood's ultimate It Girl about everything from fashion to tango to Jim Morrison and Nicholas Cage. With Eve’s Hollywood Eve Babitz lit up the scene in 1974. The books that followed, among them Slow Days, Fast Company and Sex and Rage , have seduced generations of readers with their unfailing wit and impossible glamour. What is less well known is that Babitz was a working journalist for the better part of three decades, writing for the likes of Rolling Stone , Vogue , and Esquire , as well as for off-the-beaten-path periodicals like Wet: The Magazine of Gourmet Bathing and Francis Ford Coppola’s short-lived City . Whether profiling Hollywood darlings, getting to the bottom of health crazes like yoga and acupuncture, remembering friends and lovers from her days hobnobbing with rock stars at the Troubadour and art stars at the Ferus Gallery, or writing about her beloved, misunderstood hometown, Los Angeles, Babitz approaches every assignment with an energy and verve that is all her own. I Used to Be Charming gathers nearly fifty pieces written between 1975 and 1997, including the full text of Babitz’s wry book-length investigation into the pioneering lifestyle brand Fiorucci. The title essay, published here for the first time, recounts the accident that came close to killing her in 1996; it reveals an uncharacteristically vulnerable yet never less than utterly charming Babitz. Previously uncollected nonfiction pieces by Hollywood's ultimate It Girl about everything from fashion to tango to Jim Morrison and Nicholas Cage. Eve Babitz knew everyone, tried everything (at least once), and was never shy about sharing her thoughts on any subject, be it sex, weight loss, drug use, or her ambivalence toward New York City. From the 1970s through the 1990s, Babitz wrote on a wild variety of topics for some of the biggest publications around, from Esquire to Vogue to The New York Times Book Review. I Used to Be Charming brings together the best of this nonfiction work. All previously uncollected, these pieces range from sharp personal essays on body image and the male gaze to playful meditations on everything from ballroom dancing to kissing to perfume. There are breathtaking celebrity profiles, too. In one, Nicholas Cage takes her for a ride in his '67 Sting Ray and in another she dishes about dragging Jim Morrison to bed before the The Doors had even settled on a band name ("Jim was embarrassing because he wasn't cool, but I still loved him," she writes). In another essay, the author ponders her earliest days in the spotlight, posing nude with Marcel Duchamp in that famous Julian Wasser photo, and in another, the title essay, she writes about the tragic accident that compelled her to leave that spotlight behind forever