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“Consuming Passions”: Nip/Tuck
I have been reading up on the many and varied possibilities of a little light cosmetic surgery in foreign parts. For it is very, very chic to get it fixed – whatever it is – in an exotic location, your own personal fountain of youth. Costa Rica for rhinoplasty? Brazil for your bum? South Africa. Thailand. Poland. Poland? …[Read more]
It has politics, history, architecture, Clinique and Calvin Klein - not to mention 80 percent of the wealth in Russia. Reggie Nadelson reports on The New Moscow. There's a shopping mall in the middle of Moscow, right under Manezhnaya Ploshchad—the massive plaza where serried ranks of Soviet tanks 
Reggie Nadelson looks for the fur of her dreams with a little help from J. Mendel. BY REGGIE NADELSON Fur is the new pashmina," says Gilles Mendel, wrapping me up in a sky-blue knitted mink shawl. Mendel, perhaps the best fur man in New York, is an old-fashioned artisan, a fifth-generation 
Reggie Nadelson, January 10 2009 Lovely, scented Santa Fe where in winter the air smells of pine and cedar. Where ristras of bright red chillies hang over every wall. And where, on top of the adobe buildings, the farolitos – traditionally votive candles in brown paper bags, now plastic bags with electric lights 
A resolute New Yorker falls unapologetically in love with this western town in the middle of nowhere—or rather, nowhere that writer Reggie Nadelson could have ever imagined. In an art gallery in Livingston, Montana, I meet a man who has been attacked by an elk. He's an art dealer, and as he drove through Yellowstone Park, an elk crashed 
Cookies, candy, and cheap shoes are cool reminders of a lost homeland. There are also memorials to its more brutal realities, none more effective than the Stasi Museum, named for East Germany's infamous secret police and housed in the force's former headquarters on Berlin's Normanenstrasse. Spy cameras, including some that were planted in watering 
September 2009 By Reggie Nadelson Manhattan’s Il Posto Accanto is Roman cooking at its best. Nothing fancy. Just utter perfection. It’s midday Sunday, a very mellow time at Il Posto Accanto, the little Roman-style trattoria on Second Street in Manhattan’s East Village. Sun streams through the glass panes of the doors.