Big Divorce in the City

This is another sign of the apocalypse, though not totally unexpected. Upon hearing about writer Candace Bushnell's marriage to ballet dancer Charles Askegard, I did a happy dance. When the unlikeliest people get hitched, it makes one feel that love can happen at any time anywhere with anyone. They had a great run and now they've parted ways in rousing pirouettes off stage left. A Dishfriend once saw them together at an event and he was quite the adoring husband and she loved it. RIP to their union. Her novels are like candy to me.

Have you been checking out the scandal over socialite/magazine goddess Devorah Rose getting dissed by Salman Rushdie? It seems very high school, especially since they didn't even boink. She's hurt by his nice-knowing-you-but-I-gotta-jet email, though didn't want to get in his pants anyway, and he's mortified to be associated with her in the first place and said so publicly and she gave a big interview about it in The Post and now it's The Diss that Won't Die. As Simon Le Bone so aptly sings in Arcadia's "Meet El Presidente" Hell hath no fury like a young girl's ego. I always agree with Simon.