The List
Shinan Govani
Ten things the gossip gadfly turned novelist—whose first book, Boldface Names, debuts this month—can’t live without By Amy Verner
1. My nephew
His name is Khalil, like the poet Khalil Gibran, and he just turned two. I’m a bit of a kid-o-phobe, so he’s been an eye opener. I’m looking forward to being the Show Boat uncle—that is, the one who takes him to shows. He’s definitely worth going to the 905 for.
2. Yellow tulips
They’re the only choice for the thinking person. White flowers have been sullied by play-by-the-book socialites.
I go to Posies (590 Markham St., 416-588‑9061).
3. My mane
I have a recurring nightmare about losing my hair. I think it’s extra-important to me—I’ll play shrink with myself here—because I’m short. I have to use all the inches I’ve got. Lately I’ve been using Dep gel, and I see Jie (186 Davenport Rd., 416-926‑0026)
once a month for a cut.
4. The Young and the Restless
I’ve been watching it since the ‘80s. I know the characters on that show better than I know my family. I would argue that it’s high art: the “opera” in soap opera goes back to the most basic of human themes and stories.
5. Cineplex VIP card
I get lots of swag, but the best perk of all is going to the movies any time. I prefer to go by myself: it’s the ultimate hooky and a lifesaver for someone who is so completely social.
6. Oscar Wilde
I bought Wit and Wisdom at a Hong Kong dime store when I was living there in 1998. It’s like Hamburger Helper for writers. Everything he says sounds upside down, but it all makes sense. He’s wonderfully contrarian.
7. Twitter
It’s my Vicodin. I’ll defend it—it’s a misunderstood medium. At its worst, it can be profoundly banal, but at its best, it’s like being showered all day in haikus.
8. A skinny, but not too skinny, black tie
The necktie is a form of punctuation; it’s the minimum peacocking allowed to the male. My anorexic black Dior tie is my favourite.
9. The New York Observer
Reading it feels like being at a dinner party. I love Rex Reed’s film criticism—his bitchiness is in a class of its own. Plus, the whole paper’s pink.
10. Caesar salad
I went on a caesar sabbatical for about a decade. It had more to do with me than the salad; it just seemed too ‘80s.
The one at L’Unita (134 Avenue Rd., 416-964‑8686) has pulled me back in. It’s a destination salad—tangier than Dorothy Parker and passable as a main.
Photographs: Govani, card and book by John Cullen; others from iStockPhoto
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