You didn’t read that title incorrectly, I promise. R.E.M. – as in Michael Stipe/Everybody Hurts/Losing My Religion came to our Rivington Street store this week! I wasn’t there (I can’t believe I missed this) but Jamye Waxman was and she’s here to tell you all about it:

It’s not every day that you can call up your friends and say “So I was
working at Babeland yesterday when Michael Stipe and the rest of
R.E.M. stopped by to sing for us,” but
yesterday, that was totally something I could, and did say. Yes it’s
true, R.E.M., the band that feels like they may have gone bye-bye just
a few years ago, is back, and if the single from last night is any
indication of the future of their music, let me just say I’m hooked.

It all started yesterday afternoon, when I got a call from a location
scout asking if Babeland would be interested in (possibly) being part
of a video shoot for R.E.M. Call me easy, but the obvious answer was
hell, yes! I was then told that it wasn’t definite, but if R.E.M. came
into Babeland to play, it was going to happen that night, as in mere
hours from then. We spent some time straightening up and pondering if
indeed R.E.M. would really stop by, and several hours later we got the
answer we’d been hoping for. As we eagerly anticipated their arrival,
we watched the crowd gathering outside. Basically, as part of their
video shoot, R.E.M. was playing the first single off their soon-to-be
released album in a number of different locations on the LES (that’s
Lower East Side for you non-NY types), and the first stop was our next
door neighbor, the restaurant Inoteca.

With bated breath we waited for Michael and the R.E.M. gang to make
their grand entrance. And that they did. Two cameras, some lighting
and a gaggle of other important behind-the-scenes folk piled into our
store, picked out a prime location towards the front by the books, and
began to play. It was our own private serenade and it was so cool.
When they were done we gave the band shirts and asked them to play our
15th anniversary party (sadly, they said they were busy).

Regardless of their unavailability to perform for us in the future,
their performance last night rocked Rivington Street. I can definitely
say that I’m looking forward to hearing the rest of the album, and I
know that the band and the crew all got a kick out of performing in
our store, and one of the band members even told me it was the best
sex shop he’s ever been in. How’s that for awesome?

R.E.M. came back to sign an autograph for Babeland so next time you’re
in the Rivington location be sure to check it out.

Thanks R.E.M. Come again anytime!

Tonight I toasted Heath Ledger’s short life and tragic death with a martini in the presence of other moms my age. We gathered for our bi-weekly book group, but I couldn’t help bringing up the day’s news to not only gauge the impact of this actor’s death but to vent my own sorrow around his passing.

So, yeah, a celebrity death. We hear about them regularly. For most of us, they’re not in the same league as say, a close relative dying, or even an old high school friend. But Heath Ledger belongs to a pantheon of celebrities whose deaths have struck a chord with me. More often than not they’re men who’ve crossed over into the mainstream just enough so that even me, a 45-year-old mom, mourns their passing. Heath is in good company. He’s preceded by the likes of other male celebrities whose deaths have saddened me over the years. Talented River Phoenix (actor, OD), sexy Michael Hutchence (INXS lead singer, dead of auto asphyxiation), tragic Kurt Cobain (Nirvana lead singer, OD). I mourn their passing and not just for the obvious reasons—they leave behind small children or grieving wives, their careers have not yet reached their pinnacle, etc—I mourn their loss for a much baser reason: their lives, and they way they lived them on screen or on stage quickened my pulse. Yes, honestly, they all at some point became Class A “man candy” for me, and losing them is like losing a fantasy boyfriend. River Phoenix accompanied me through my youth, navigating coming of age sexual terrain in movies like My Own Private Idaho. Michael Hutchence exuded classic, testosterone driven Jim Morrison-eque rock n’ roll bravado. Kurt Cobain was the tortured, misunderstood artist.

And now Heath. The actor who caught my attention in a silly little film called A Knight’s Tale, about a confident and sexy young knight who earns undying friendship from his peers, the love of his lady, and the respect of his king, all in a sweet comedy with a fun soundtrack. And then years later he reappears on my radar in his full Oscar-worthy glory, in Brokeback Mountain, as a young cowboy bravely pushing sexual boundaries and manning his way through a hold-your-breath ass-fucking scene worthy of any porn on record. That cemented him in my man candy hall of fame. He took chances, he was bold, unafraid, and just plain hot as a gay cowboy. Heath wasn’t just your typical Ivy League or macho man stereotype (neither Brad Pitt or The Rock are on my man candy short list), he was something special. Someone who made me look at men in a new way—even if in that looking, I stopped intellectualizing and just enjoyed Heath in all his erotic glory.

But I guess, like so many of his ilk, he took one chance too many in his personal life, and it was a gamble he lost. Well here’s one mom that will miss his husky voice, and the unrealized promise of his career. So long Heath.