Jen BaumgardnerI just finished reading Selfish, Shallow and Self-Absorbed, a new anthology of essays, out today, about the decision not to have kids edited by Meghan Daum. I connected deeply with a number of the writers and the reasons they gave for foregoing parenthood. Their instincts and emotions were familiar, their stories, often mine, too.
But I have a son.
There's a strong taboo against being child-free, and it's one that works against all women—those without children and those with them, too. The maternal instinct is a spectrum, not a switch, and accepting it as such would absolve a tremendous amount of guilt for those who decide not to have children as well as throw a wrench in those straw men arguments fueling the mommy wars. (I love my work more! I love my kids more!)
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowAnd so we brought together four women who occupy different spots on this spectrum to discuss this taboo, and what unraveling it could mean for all of us: Meghan Daum, 45 and married, who has no children and never really wanted them; Elliott Holt, 41 and unmarried, who once wanted children but now is at peace with the fact that she won't have them; ELLE.com features editor Justine Harman, 30 and married, who wants to be a mom, but is also terrified of the prospect; and me, a married woman and mom whose tremendous love for her child has not fully extinguished her ambivalence about the role. Meghan, let's start by hearing why you decided to do this book.
More From ELLEMeghan Daum: I wanted to do a book like this because I'd always wanted to read a book like this. And while there are some out there, they tend to fall back on a kind of glibness that doesn't really serve anyone. You hear a lot of "I'd rather have expensive shoes than have kids!" and "I'd rather sleep late!" You hear about "brats" and "breeders" and a lot of one-liners about strollers blocking the sidewalk. And while it can sometimes be funny, it always struck me as an avoidance mechanism.
Apparently not wanting to be a parent is such a difficult thing for people to admit to themselves that they couch their choice in these throwaway lines or call themselves "selfish." It's funny, people who choose not to have kids often accuse parents of stereotyping them, calling them materialistic or lazy or immature and so on. But I've noticed it's frequently the non-parents who put themselves in these boxes. They call themselves "selfish" almost as if it were a preemptive strike. And that's because somehow it's less of a taboo to say you're lazy and want expensive shoes than to say, "Hey, I've thought about this and it just isn't for me." I wanted to put together a book that included different kinds of voices coming from different viewpoints but all of which transcended the glibness.
Justine Harman: That's interesting to me. Because, even as a liberal child of liberal parents, I never considered the fact that not having children was an option. I want to have children, and I love my nephews and niece deeply, but I never really considered the choice element of the equation. Regardless of how progressive I may be, having kids was always a given for me.
Elissa Strauss: Elliott, did you find yourself running into these internal biases?
"I've never thought that not having kids makes me selfish."
Elliott Holt: I didn't have that particular internal bias —I've never thought that not having kids makes me selfish—but for a while, I bought into the idea that life without children was somehow less meaningful. So many of my friends talked about parenthood as a life-changing experience that I started to feel like I was missing out on a crucial rite of passage. And not having kids made me really lonely. Most of my friends are busy raising their children and hanging out with other parents. When my friends started having kids, I missed the community we all had before everyone disappeared into their nuclear families. I felt isolated, which compounded the sense that my life was less fulfilling. But then I started making more friends who, like me, don't have children. I'm still friends with the ones who have kids, but I see the friends without kids a lot more often. It's been hugely helpful to realize that I'm not alone. And it's been freeing to let go of assumptions I had about what adulthood is supposed to look like. My life is full of meaning, even though I don't have children: I love my work; I have wonderful friends and pets; I travel a lot; I'm a devoted aunt. I really believe my life has worked out the way it was supposed to.
JH: I worry about this, too. When I was 25 and single in New York City, I never anticipated that, a mere five years later, my friends and I would have difficulty finding time to grab dinner. Even when we do get together, there are furtive glances at the time, e-mails that demand to be checked, and a sliding scale of interest when it comes to getting "just one more drink." Once kids get added to the mix, I fear that I no longer will get to choose my friends—I have the lurking suspicion that my friends will choose me (and, by default, my lifestyle).
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Dean: courtesy of the Everett Collection; bottle: Steven KrauseAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowYears of playing swoon-worthy, twinkly-eyed leading men must have taught Patrick Dempsey a thing or two about what women want. When he meets me in the sprawling penthouse of the Beverly Wilshire—yes, the Pretty Woman hotel—his first words are: "Want some champagne?" Followed by: "So, you're from North Carolina?" (Do your research, gents, and you'll have us at hello.)
Here's what Dempsey has picked up from five seasons as thwarted lovebird Derek Shepherd on Grey's Anatomy (a show, he points out, that's written by a woman, the formidable Shonda Rhimes): "Shepherd—he listens. Men have a tendency to want to get to the bottom line, but they need to be patient. I think women want to be just heard. At the end of the day, they want to be protected, nurtured, and also have a lot of freedom, too, to go off and do their own thing."
More From ELLEDempsey's sharp sense for the wants of the modern woman has come in handy in his second career: cologne magnate. After staking out a place in the men's fragrance world last year, with Avon's Unscripted, he's launching Patrick Dempsey 2, a cozy saffron-and-spicy-woods blend (women who love men's fragrances are sure to borrow this one from their boyfriends). Who does Dempsey trust to make sure these are eaux that ladies will buy, buy, buy? His uniquely qualified wife, Avon Global Creative Color Director, Jillian. "She's got to smell me, so she better like it," he says. "It all comes down to that, doesn't it?"
The men's fragrance industry—which in 2008 raked in $854 million at department stores and $204 million at mass retailers—has a rather singular mission: calibrate scents (and ad concepts, bottles, and, often, a celebrity spokesperson) to appeal to both men and the women who love them, not necessarily in that order. Yes, certain well-groomed guys want to smell good for their own sake; and of course plenty of men could care less about enticing a girl at all. But "in general, in the American market, about 50 percent of men's fragrances are bought by men, and 50 percent are bought by women for men," says Charlotta Perlangeli, the VP of global marketing for Calvin Klein fragrances. "We definitely take both into account."
Derek Jeter, Avon's other man-traction, phoned in from Seattle last summer, hours before the Yankees creamed the Mariners, to discuss the zesty new juniper, sage, and sandalwood Driven Sport, his fourth fragrance in three years. Jeter's got the guys on the team hooked—"they'll sort of make fun of me at first, and then when no one's around, they'll ask me for some"—but he says the real judge and jury consist of his mom, his sister, and his female agent (and, presumably, rumored fiancée Minka Kelly). "I think a woman's opinion on a men's fragrance means more than a man's opinion," Jeter says. "Especially at Avon, where women are the ones who sell it. If I don't sell them, they're not going to sell the fragrance." (Something tells me he has little to worry about on either count.)
The idea that the right scent will help a guy "get" the girl sounds like marketing hooey—if a man is vile enough, even holy water isn't going to help him. Yet who among us hasn't been hooked (or, equally, repelled) by that whiff of Kryptonite emerging from a beloved's T-shirt neckline? In high school, I crushed on a heavily hair-gelled heart stomper who bathed in Obsession (16-year-olds in mushroom clouds of man-scent? Blech. But boy, I'd have happily swilled the stuff back then). In my twenties, I irrationally, unhappily adored a man who wore a now-defunct Guerlain spritz; I spent most of our relationship with my nose burrowed into his throat, as if I might find a truffle there. And I'm no snob: I've recently developed an unexpected fondness for Old Spice deodorant ($2.69), which wafted its way into my life completely by accident: My boyfriend stole it from his father in a moment of desperation. Suddenly, it's the smell of masculinity, love, and hard work.
What do women want? If only it were that simple. According to one oft-cited bit of research, the one smell that's proven to arouse us is that of Good & Plenty candies. This theory might explain generations of movie theater make-out sessions (well, that and the dark room), but it has yet to result in a lady-slaying, licorice-scented cologne. Likewise, new pheromone love potions seem to pop up every few years; but without the clinical data—or a convincingly slick ad campaign—to back them up, these novelties have yet to conquer the market (or the fairer sex).
Rodrigo Flores-Roux, a veteran per­fumer who has concocted iconic scents for Tom Ford and Donna Karan, says the eaux he mixed up for John Varvatos (For Men, Artisan, Vintage, Rock Volume One) seem to be especially adept at keeping the ladies coming back, but even he struggles to specify why. "Men like them because women are the ones who point them out," he says. "Women like them because...they just have that thing that appeals to them."
Some companies go to great lengths to nail down that "thing." Based on a 13-country poll of 3,500 women ages 18 to 35, Axe determined that 70 percent of us prefer chocolate to shopping, jewelry, and even sex. The company's marketing team staged an internal ice cream party and rewatched the refrigerator scene from 9½ Weeks, then tasked a team of ultra-sophistiqué Parisian noses at fragrance firm IFF to come up with a smell that was "lickable" yet still had the "hairs and balls" of a signature Axe fragrance (an unfortunate juxtaposition of phrases, but hey, that's Axe for you). Dark Temptation—internal code name: Urge—is, frankly, delicious: spicy, warm, sexy, and not at all sugary. If Axe could engineer its nozzle to release a discreet, nonasphyxiating quantity of the stuff, I'd buy it in bulk.
Other brands seem to build on the old-fashioned-sounding notion that what a woman really wants is a rich man. Niche perfumery Bond No. 9's latest addition to its Andy Warhol series is Success is a Job in New York. Spritzing a man with something that's supposed to smell like money—eau de dough, if you will—probably won't turn him into a human ATM. It may, however, make him wonder if you're trying to tell him something.
Slightly subtler, but no less pointed, the artist known as 50 Cent has a new cologne, too. It's called Power by Fifty Cent. (Evidently, when Fitty puts on his perfumer hat, he becomes Fifty.) The day we met, the rapper's well-documented musculature was hidden beneath a pink-checked button-down, and his boyish smile could have out-dreamied McDempsey. Powerful, indeed. Fifty favors Tom Ford suits and Audemars Piguet watches—today's three-inch model was chosen for its resemblance to the cap of his fragrance bottle—and, good news, has rather open-minded taste in women: "You know how some people have a type? Not me," he says with a laugh. "I've seen things I didn't think I'd find attractive in a woman, and thought, Wow, she's beautiful."
The Five-Oh has his theories, naturally, on what women want. "Besides physical attributes, stability is attractive," he says. "It comes with being successful, and that success being publicly noted—that's power." Fifty assures me that many women find this quality appealing; he's betting those ladies also like men who smell like lemon leaves, coriander, nutmeg, and patchouli. Chances are, if women think Power will give their mate whatever Fifty has, they'll buy it.
For me, the true test of a men's scent has long been its "nuzzle-ability." I was on the verge of trademarking this useful term until Perlangeli informed me that it's part of fragrance marketing 101. Notes like vanilla, cream, and coffee, which are vaguely sweet but not at all feminine, tend to make us snuggle in for a closer sniff. The new CK Free features coffee and a creamy, soft note of suede; Flores-Roux's latest project, for the niche men's grooming brand Alford & Hoff, is equally nuzzle-y. The brand's owners, two ex-Arizona State football players with a taste for the high life, demanded "a guy's guy perfume—a manly thing. Nothing too fresh, nothing light, nothing citrusy," says Flores-Roux; one of them further specified "something that's like the good part of getting a punch in the gut." The juice he concocted contains a biting green note of avocado leaf, oakwood extract from aged wooden wine casks, and Madagascan vanilla. Does it pack a believable punch? I wouldn't know. But I concur with Flores-Roux: "It makes you want to snuggle up next to the guy. It's visceral." That is to say, it's exactly what we want.

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Nude ballet flats give a chic feminine vibe to grunge flannel

Photo: Peter Miszuk

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GettyNobody ever said wearing high heels was comfortable. But a new study from Stanford University found that they might make you walk like you've suddenly aged 20 years.
Researchers measured how healthy women walked while wearing shoes with different heel heights: a flat sneaker, a 1.5-inch heel, and a 3.25-inch heel. They also had each woman walk with and without a heavy vest that weighed 20% of their body weight. Researchers paid attention to how the participants' knees moved while they walked and while they stood still.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowThe results of the study, published in the Journal of Orthopaedic Research, were pretty scary for stiletto enthusiasts everywhere. When you walk in high heels, your knees are more likely to be bent when your feet hit the ground. That puts a lot of strain on your knees, and makes you walk in a similar way to older women or women who have arthritis. And it's even worse if you're overweight, since you put more pressure on your joints.
And all that strain on your knees can lead to trouble down the road. "High heel use, especially when combined with increased weight, may contribute to increased [osteoarthritis] risk in women," the study's authors wrote. So give your high heels a rest every so often; your knees will thank you later.

Pace Gallery/James FrancoAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowPhoto: Courtesy of Pace Gallery/James Franco
There are actors with range, and then there's James Franco. The Oscar-nominated leading man's career has pretty much been defined by his eagerness to color outside of the lines, whether that involves going back to school—he's currently pursuing his PhD in comparative literature at Yale—directing short films for the likes of Gucci and Seven For All Mankind, teaching, writing, guesting on General Hospital, or co-hosting the Academy Awards.
More From ELLEThe latest feather to add to the Spring Breakers star's cap? An exhibit, "Psycho Nacirema," that will be running at the Pace London through July 27. Franco hasn't ventured too far from Hollywood, all but recreating the eerie Bates Motel from the 1960 Alfred Hitchcock thriller Psycho, complete with a blood-spattered bathroom.
Franco collaborated with Scottish artist Douglas Gordon, whose own 1993 work, "24 Hour Psycho," projected a slowed-down version of the Hitchcock classic lasting an entire day. The show consists of five faux hotel rooms, four of which have been drenched in gruesome red paint and outfitted with neon signs and ghostly images of a wig-clad Franco playing the part of victim Marion Crane.
As attendees sign an oversized guest book and move through the macabre setting, projections of Franco acting out scenes from the film appear on the walls, most of which are scrawled with "Psycho" over and over.
Just past a bedroom occupied by a massive teddy bear covered in paint and crudely penetrated by a foreign object comes a warning that the show may not be suitable for audiences under 18. Then you enter the notorious bathroom where you'll find a shower red-paint doused curtain printed with Franco's screaming image. A projection shows a violinist playing Bernard Herrmann's screechy score from the film.
"Film is the medium that employs all art forms, but it is contained within the screen," Franco, who celebrated the exhibit's launch with a party at The Playboy Club last week, said in a press statement. "We take this multi-form idea and pull it through the screen, so that the different forms are once again fully dimensional and a new nexus of interaction and significance is created. In this show, we go back to the original locations and images of Psycho and alter them so that once again the viewer's relationship with the material changes. One becomes an actor when interacting with this work. Film becomes raw material and is sculpted into new work."
The final room keeps with the hotel theme, but loses the Hitchcock context. A blood-soaked bed is surrounded by projection screens showing footage of Franco's interpretation of the 1921 killing of model and actress Virginia Rappe in a hotel room. Again, the films here are silent and slowed down, creating a haunting sense of haziness and foreboding. It's hardly Hitchcock, but patient visitors will be rewarded with some suitably nightmarish visions. You've been warned!
For more info on "Psycho Nacirema" visit pacegallery.com.

Photo: Paris Hilton by Sofia CoppolaWhen we moved to Philadelphia after living in New York City for eight years, Baxter didn't seem too happy. We have, after all, moved five times since we arrived at 49th and 2nd that blisteringly hot day in July 2006, just two months after I made him relocate from our first home together on 40th and Pine in West Philly. We're back in the City of Brotherly Love, but after eight years of Manhattan living, he just isn't feeling Pennsylvania anymore.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowHe doesn't say it, exactly, but I know what he's thinking. I can tell from the way his olive-shaped eyes—dark brown, almost black, with imperceptible pupils—open and close like he's had too much to drink and the way his feet drag as we ascend the four narrow flights of stairs up to the bedroom we share, that he'd hoped we'd closed that chapter: the one in which I resent my own choices.
All of this attitude and judgment from a 9-year-old Maltese-Poodle mix.
More From ELLERelated: My Husband's Dog Makes Me Insane
Like the start of so many relationships, Baxter and I met online. On an episode of the MTV reality show Newlyweds, a lovely man named Nick Lachey gave his then-wife, Jessica Simpson, a butterscotch-colored curly he had found on DivaPup.com, a since-shuttered website that specialized in hybrid breeds. And just like that, I had to have one. As a 21-year-old intern at InStyle magazine (and a rising college senior), I didn't know that nine years later I would still work in fashion glossies and that I would still have the dog that I ordered off the Internet. But I do. And together we have seen it all: six different roommates; two break-ins; two break-ups; one wedding (at which he served as a defacto bridesmaid); and seven changes of address.
Shared history aside, on any given day, Baxter's stock lands him somewhere between furniture and friend—albeit a friend that snores, requires walks, food, pricey vet visits, and these days, a lift up the stairs when his back, left hip acts up. And, occasionally, he's the bane of my existence: He's the last thing I remember when I'm about to leave for vacation—It's all, 'Shit! The dog!'—and the first one I blame when there's a puddle on the floor. He's also my favorite punch line. "Ughhhh," I've been known to say, "Baxter is the woooorst" for no other reason than he's licked a wet spot onto the duvet, his breath smells just a tiny bit like fish food flakes, or because having him means I can't be completely irresponsible. Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly mean, I sing a song called "Baxteria," which is basically the chorus from Rihanna's "Disturbia" but with my dog being the so-called "disease of the mind that can control you."
It's not a nice song, really.
Courtesy of Justine HarmanAnyone who has a dog, or has seen the movie Marley & Me, knows that the most precious thing about having one is the tragedy of it all. In buying or adopting a pet, we agree to love someone with whom we will only share a preordained amount of time. We share our homes, our highs and lows, and all of our behind-closed-doors secrets with a living thing that can never even tell us that he or she loves us back. In no other relationship, do we agree to this cruel of a contract. It's the kind of gut-level truth that only rears its head now and again. But sometimes, like when Baxter does an actual downward dog pose and yawns an audible "oooOOOOooo," his pink tongue rolling out like a slap bracelet, my heart fills with equal parts devotion and dread.
Dogs may require an upkeep that never matures (food, walks, playtime), but they are also pretty human-like in their ethos: They just want consistency and acceptance. As I write this I am watching my aging pup sleep in a formation that I like to call "the eggplant"—all four paws bundled up at his lower belly—and I feel a pang of gratitude that he isn't human. Because if I treated a person as ambivalently as I have treated this animal, he would have left me by now.
Over the last nine years—a time during which I grew up from a 21-year-old intern who carelessly bought an animal because it was cute (and because Jessica Simpson had one) to a 30-year-old woman with a husband, a mortgage, and a sump pump—the only constant in my life has been Baxter. And despite the many times I've cursed him for being so costly, so slow on his walks, or for sitting "too close" (the guy is a leaner), he has provide me with immeasurable joy and comfort. In the midst of writing this, I go over to Whatshisface to see if, despite these confessions, he''ll present his taut, pink tummy for a pat, but then I notice the way his little eyelids are fluttering. I decide that it isn't so thoughtful to wake someone up when they're in the throes of REM and back away. See, Bax, I'm learning.
Later, as we climb those narrow steps to bed, I know he'll give me that telling look again. But this time, I'll be sure to remind myself that I'm merely projecting.
We're not sure about Philadelphia, I'll tell him.
We can't promise we won't move again.
But if we do, it will be a family decision. And that certainly includes you, Bax.

Getty ImagesAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowPhoto: Getty Images
You could say that Greta Gerwig is having an HBO Girls moment. Similar to the rise of her gal pal, Lena Dunham, Gerwig has taken the reigns of her acting career by picking up the pen to co-write her upcoming film, Frances Ha. She even cast Girls's Adam Driver in the movie. The final result is her most captivating role—and film—yet.
We've watched Gerwig lost in the conundrum of her 20s and thriving within the confines of NYC before, but this black-and-white version—deftly directed by Gerwig's rumored beau and previous Greenberg collaborator, Noah Baumbach—finds a nuanced layer.
"One of the main trajectories we were telling was her love story with Sophie [played by Mickey Sumner]," said Gerwig at the L.A. premiere last night, which was hosted by IFC Films and Flux.
"And that we'd told [this friendship] like a love story. You don't know what the last great day you're going to spend with your best friend is, until you've already had it. And then it's done."
We chatted with Gerwig, dressed in an Isabel Marant blazer over a dress she bought in France, about dating, her 30th birthday, and girl crush on Diane Keaton.
What is a Greta Gerwig dance party like?Oh, I'm really good at giving a dance party. It's one of my talents. I feel like that's one sad thing about adult life: There aren't opportunities for it, except at wedding receptions. My friends are starting to get married now, so it's really exciting because I get to dance a lot. But I'm going to turn 30 in August, and I'm having a blowout dance party.What are the necessary ingredients for a "blowout?"You need to work your way up to hardcore rap. You can't start there, because everyone will be like, "Ah, this is freaking me out. Why are you playing Kendrick Lamar right now?" But you can get there, if you introduce it through New Order, followed by Blondie rapping, and then A$AP Rocky. But you can't just go there at the beginning. So, a good DJ or a good playlist is key. And alcohol. And you need at least four people who are going for it, and then everyone else just accepts what's happening.Your character in the film spontaneously breaks into a dance sequence. Do you let yourself go when you dance in public spaces?I've been known to do it on the streets, but I don't look like a crazy person. I just look like a joyful lady. I've always given myself permission [to do that]. I've always been that kind of person.What—or who—has influenced your brand of physical comedy?Carole Lombard is probably my favorite actress of all time. The way that she walks in movies and there's something about her entrances and exits that's inherently hilarious to me. Her swiftness is very funny. And then, of course, Diane Keaton is just baked into my heart, because she's Diane Keaton. Everything she did, especially with Woody Allen, I imitated from the very first time I saw it. And, Buster Keaton. The way he is. It's a confident but shy combination that I really got into.The film popularizes the word "undateable." What is the difference between "undateable" and "unavailable?"In the beginning, and through the movie, Frances considers it almost a point of pride–a badge of honor—that she's undateable, and she wants [her best friend] Sophie to be undateable, too. She thinks, "Who the f--- is going to date us? We're so crazy." But it's actually a loss when she finds out lots of people could. She probably eventually joins the world of adults and joins up with some gentleman.Where did you pull inspiration for this film? Because, unlike Frances, you are doing what you want to do.That's true. I feel very close to Frances, although I'm not Frances. But I feel like anybody who does anything in the arts—acting, writing, dancing, music, directing—it seems like you're always close to being nothing. And you're always two decisions away from not being employed in what you want to do. And I don't think you ever forget that fear. And so, it's very accessible to me, that feeling that I'm almost not doing this.