Not so cold. Weatherman telling us to watch out for big stormy weather; snow coming this way. Whether or not it will reach the streets of New York is anybody’s guess. The big Merc goes retrograde today, if you didn’t know. So watch what you say, and especially what you sign, say the astrologers.

I went down to SoHo to the loft of Matt and Marisa Brown who were giving a book party for their friend Bridie Clark. Bridie, who graduated from Harvard in 1999 has worked as in the editorial departments of Vanity Fair, New York and Simon & Schuster. Her most recent gig was at Regan Books at HarperCollins. That Regan as in Judith Regan. Remember her? You still do, I’ll bet. OJ’s book about What If?  Yeah, sure. Rupert Murdoch, who owns HarperCollins not being too happy about the reception of the OJ book? Remember? How about Bernie Kerik, the Giuliani security guy who was having a fling with Ms. Regan using the apartment reserved for survivors of 9/11 victims, as their ... rendevous. Yes, that Ms. Regan.

Bridie Clark holding a copy of her Because She Can. Click to order.

Outside New York, outside the publishing world, Ms. Regan probably didn’t amount to a hill of beans to most people. But in that small, ever expanding circle, with its high media profile, Ms. Regan rocked. And watch out – you know how those rockers are. Noisy. And rambunctious.

Ms. Clark worked for Ms. Regan, and it was….well, she’s written a novel about it. Sorta. It’s a roman a clef. That’s “clef” pronounced “clay,” as in “feet of.” This is the lesson, if there is one, of working for a red hot (and thinks she/he is) executive, especially one in the media where everybody loves the attention even more than they like to pay it.

I don’t know what happened, why and when Ms. Clark left Regan Books (which is no more anyway).  I spoke to her briefly about it. The book is a kind of the “Devil Wears Prada” of the publishing world (which is just up the block from the fashion/garment center world). Yellers and screamers abound. Puerile, infantile, the bipolar syndrome. Privilege in a derelict mode. Where life meets fiction and babies are born only to morph into monsters. Like a movie. As in movie deal. Ms. Clark’s professional path, it so happens, is a world class university for developing those habits. Or symptoms, depending on how you look at it.

I asked Ms. Clark if she ever imagined that her boss would end up in the situation that befell her (losing her job and her imprint at a major publisher where she’d made millions for them).  Answer: no she hadn’t. Because the real ending beats fiction, even Judith Regan’s fiction. You can read all about it. Buy the book: BECAUSE SHE CAN.

Ms. Clark’s party was a mass of her contemporaries and peers, many with similar CV’s and socio-economic experiences. This is young New York, the averagely well-educated crowd. Many are in media. Many are in finance, formerly known as Wall Street, now usually known as Hedge Funds. There is a lot of living well (best revenge, best revenge) going on, as well as a lot of clamoring voices of ambition. So there was a lot of talk around the room. Friendly energetic group. Photographers taking pictures as if training for a Fellini movie. Or rather post-Fellini.

This is Bridie Clark’s debut novel, fresh off the media minefields. To those of us aspiring, there’s much to learn, to find out, to know.  Or if it’s just reassurance that you’re not crazy, or at least not the only one, this is perfect reading too.  

For additional information, please visit: www.bridieclark.com.