Thirty years ago I walked into Le Cirque, back when it was the chicest restaurant in New York, when anyone who was anyone, or wanted to be anybody, would jockey for position to be seated and be seen. The marvelous Daniel Boulud was the chef then, Sirio Maccioni, the owner, was the ultimate restaurateur. But Sirio wasn’t at the front desk that afternoon.

After our first meeting, Mr. Maccioni said to me, “Elizabetta, she is special, no?” She sure as hell is.

Jackie Camacho is my new skincare guru. A mutual friend introduced us, she sent me her line — Cible, one of the most exciting French skincare brands to arrive on this side of the Atlantic — and two weeks later, the difference in my skin was not subtle. It was, frankly, startling. Jackie came up through SkinCeuticals, one of the most hallowed names in dermatological skincare, which tells you everything about her standards. But what makes her genuinely rare is this: she's as fluent in the affordable as she is in the aspirational. She knows what's worth the splurge, what works just as well for a fraction of the price, and — most importantly for those of us over 50 — what our skin actually needs right now.

I don't know about you, but I find Andy Cohen irritating. Who the hell smiles that much?

Why? Because Andy Cohen is living his life and loving every minute of it. Producer, talent scout, entrepreneur, talk show and podcast host, best-selling author, gay activist, Father Confessor to Bravo's ever-growing coast-to-coast, Our Lady of Restylane congregation and real life father of two, no one works harder at being cheeky, impish, charming, and omnipresent than Andy Cohen. And though he's been in broadcasting for over three decades, the youthful looking 57-year-old's not slowing down.

The world of reality television is tricky because it looks easier than it is, because it often zeroes in on people behaving badly, because it gets dismissed as pandering, coarse, trashy, staged. Cohen laughs it off, remaining its most fervent cheerleader and champion, satisfied in knowing that his version of it entertains millions, that it's fun, and that it's harmless, no matter what Gloria Steinem thinks. Plus it makes you forget your own tsuris, if only for an hour. And no one is better at creating and sustaining it than today's Happy Grownup guest. But unlike most of his previous, numerous interviews, I am are not going to focus on Aviva throwing her prosthetic leg, Teresa turning over the table, or Angie vomiting on the yacht. This Happy Grownup hour is going to be all about Andy Cohen.

The Happy Grownup came about because while I knew the years were flying (at this stage, Time is driving a McLaren like an F1 qualifier) but I couldn’t understand why I didn’t look or feel like I thought I would at this age. 

I have had a crush on Vanessa Williams for…oh, a little over 40 years. I know this sounds astounding now, but back in the ‘80s over 55 million people watched the Miss America pageant and my family never missed it. It was like this well-dressed, benign version of Survivor all in one night: parading beautiful young women, each representing their home state, vying for lucrative college scholarships. But in order to do so, they had to wear gowns, strut around the stage in high heels and a bathing suit and answer pontificatingly inane questions that somehow always ended up in hoping for world peace.

But it was the talent portion that really fascinated me. There were ladies playing piano, playing marimba, accordion, even the cups, monologues from plays, tap dancing, baton twirlers, fire dances, women walking on glass. Two of my favorites were Miss America 1961, Nancy Ann Fleming, her talent was she showed several different ways to pack a suitcase for the weekend, and Vonda Kay Van Dyke, Miss America 1965, who was not a half bad ventriloquist. But rarely was there someone with any real talent. And then in 1984, Miss New York State, this stunning 20-year-old Black American woman sang a version of Happy Days Are Here Again with an arrangement similar to Barbra Streisand’s groundbreaking interpretation of the song. She was goddamn good! Like, Broadway-bound good! And that’s how Vanessa Williams became Miss America in 1984. She was smart. She had poise. Her politics was startlingly aligned with the way young America thought. And it turns out she was incredibly tough. 

Why do I love talking to Dana Thomas? Because she knows more about fashion than just about anybody but doesn’t ever gush about clothes with inane commentary like, “She’s killing it!” “Now that’s red carpet realness!,” or “I die!” Instead Dana is refreshing and candid. She can reveal the elusive way designers instigate desire, explain how a growing trend gets marketed, highlight the industry’s influence on our everyday lives, and tell you why looking good matters more than any of us wants to admit. With pragmatic and witty insight, Dana fascinates when analyzing the times fashion’s designers, editors, execs, retailers and consumers work together in harmony as well as when they explode in clashing dissonance. I could talk to her for days.

Why do Oprah Winfrey, Jennifer Lopez, David Beckham, Eva Longoria, Justin Bieber, Kim Kardashian, Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Michelle Pfeiffer, as well as tens of millions of women and men who want to look in the mirror and smile at their own reflection, adore Anastasia Soare? 

But that's not the only reason why I adore Anastasia. In fact, when we launched The Happy Grown Up a year ago, I was thrilled to have her as one of my first guests. I've known the lady for over 20 years, and yet for all of her facial wizardry, the reason why I find her so irresistible is her unflagging self-possession, her resolute belief in her own vision, her commitment to her mission, her insatiable curiosity to know more, to share more, and to relentlessly convince us that everyone is blessed not only with their own individual stamp of beauty, but with the power to fulfill their fondest dreams.

And today, I welcome Anastasia back to The Happy Grown-Up because she has chronicled her story, her incredible drive, and her uplifting spirit in print. Her new book, Raising Brows, has become an instant bestseller, not just because Oprah christened it as a revelation and a joy to read, but it's also because her pursuit of innovation and self-satisfaction is a memoir so inspirational that it makes you question why you would ever doubt going for your own dreams.

Her message is simple and clear. Go for it. Full throttle. Never take your eyes off the prize. Never doubt yourself or be stifled by doubters. And always know that tomorrow gives you another day to make your life better. Raising Brows is a book that insists that happiness thrives when you are the biggest cheerleader of your own life. So I just had to have her here. Welcome Anastasia back because with all the chatter and nonsense crashing around us. We need her positivity and joyful noise more than ever.

To the people who work for her, Cathy Hughes is known as the Queen, Her Majesty, or simply Miss. H.

You may not recognize her name, but there’s a damn good chance you have connected with at least one channel of the extraordinary communications corporation that she founded 45 years ago. Starting with one lone radio station in Washington, D.C., Miss Hughes soon expanded her reach with an insinuating late-night format that instantly became the soundtrack for millions of us during the ‘70s when we wanted to turn the lights down low. The Quiet Storm featured nonstop R&B and soul music by artists like Marvin Gaye, Luther Vandross, and Teddy Pendergrass at their most sultry and hip-grinding best. Spurred by that success, Hughes founded Radio One, now renamed Urban One, which commands over 60 radio and television stations across the United States, the most prominent distributor of lifestyle information and music content for African Americans and people of color. 

In 1999, Ms. Hughes became the first woman of color to take her company public. She is an inspiring entrepreneur, educator, musical visionary, force for social good, and a paramount example of self-reliance, resilience, and guts. Our Happy Grownup friend, Aaron Walton says that Kathy’s energy is so constant and formidable that she can make you feel like the laziest person on earth. So with the risk of falling into that demoralized state, I am delighted to welcome this cultural powerhouse, Miss Cathy Hughes.

From the first time I ever saw Jerry Mitchell in the 1991 musical Will Rogers Follies – he was the Indian of the Dawn, barely dressed in a loincloth on an elevated drum – there’s been one through line in his career as a Tony-winning choreographer for Hairspray, The Full Monty, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, La Cage aux Folles, and then as a Tony-winning director-choreographer for Legally Blonde, Kinky Boots, On Your Feet!, Pretty Woman, Boop!, and the musical adaptation of The Devil Wears Prada that’s now playing in London. Every single one of them, without exception, has been designed to make you happy. Actually, not just happy – you’re supposed to walk out of the theater joyful. Jerry has taken this mission upon himself, like Evillene says in The Wiz, “don’t bring me no bad news.” 

This week on the podcast we’ll find out the reason he has such an obsession with making everyone so goddam happy.