Articles
My idea of a perfect afternoon is sitting on the beach with a stack of new magazines and nowhere to go. I've been fortunate enough to write for almost every magazine I've ever loved. I started out as an intern at Sassy magazine, then I moved on to Seventeen where I began writing a column called "Guytalk." During subsequent jobs at Premiere, the New York Times and Newsweek, I didn't get to interview as many cute boys, but I guess that's part of growing up.
Although I'm just a wannabe fashionista, I've written for fashion magazines such as Glamour, Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. I even got to attend the Paris fashion shows once, on a cushy assignment from Newsweek to interview Stella McCartney. I've also done pieces on Kelis and Damon Dash for the NYT's Fashions of the Times. Lately, you can find my writing in Latina Magazine and O, the Oprah Magazine.
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Selected articles
In order to reconnect with my inner athlete and ramp up my yawning workouts, I recently decided to abstain from alcohol for a month. I assumed the hardest part would be to last four weeks virtuously sipping seltzer while my friends got happy drinking cocktails. The real challenge, however, was mustering the willpower to begin.
With her new CD, Wanderland, Kelis may be on the verge of global stardom, but her soul--and diva style--are pure Harlem. Veronica Chambers takes the A-Train.
She's a platanos-frying, malta Dukesa-drinking, salsa-dancing Mamacita--my dark-skinned Panamanian mother. She came to this country when she was 21, her sense of culture intact, her Spanish flawless. Even today, more than 20 years since she left her home country to become an American citizen, my mother still considers herself Panamanian and checks 'Hispanic' on census forms.
It's the day before the Chloe fashion show, but if head designer Stella McCartney is tense, it doesn't show. She dances around to the beat of Busta Rhymes and greets the models with an upbeat "Hello, darling!"
Raised on rock and Ricky Martin, the Latin Gen X is cruising the American mainstream, rediscovering their roots and inventing a new, bicultural identity--without losing anything in the translation.
You wouldn't think the Girls Choir of Harlem, with its classical repertoire of Schumann and Pergolesi, had much in common with the WNBA. But this past summer, when hoop stars like Lisa Leslie and Teresa Weatherspoon had girls across the country screaming "We got next!" the Harlem Girls Choir in New York City were seconding that emotion.
If a movie maker were casting the part of a film director, Forest Whitaker wouldn't seem the obvious choice. He is not loud. He is not manic. During the filming of Terry McMillan's novel Waiting to Exhale, which he is in fact directing, the cast and crew were enamored of him almost to the point of obnoxiousness.
I first met Tupac Shakur almost five years ago, when
John Singleton invited me to do a behind-the-scenes book for his second
movie, Poetic Justice. It was early on in pre-production when Tupac was cast, and we were on a location scout.
Blacks who were light enough to pass for white--and did--were, in pre-Civil Rights America, as titillating as any tabloid story is today. Hollywood quickly picked up on the box-office potential of these tales and scripted story after story about the 'tragic mulatto,' usually female, who suffered because of the "dualing bloods running through her veins." For Fredricka Washington, these roles would become her bread and butter.