It's an interesting phenomenon-the poll. We often see its statistics quoted….and we would hardly doubt its results. Unthinkable, in fact, to question them. Yet we didn't blink an eye when just this month, NEW YORK Magazine dubbed the one and only Monica Lewinsky New York City's current IT GIRL.

Who conducted this poll, might I ask? And were they severely beaten as children? (If not, they should have been.)

It's a rather enigmatic, the process that produced this cover girl. I have searched the streets looking for a solitary soul that might even vote her into their top ten list. 'Twas a fruitless effort. Yet, we find her adorning the cover and straddling the inside of this popular publication, a large swath of dark hair covering one eye, the other looking out at us, with all its sultry innuendo.

Before I go any further, I must preface this by saying, I am have no ill will toward Monica, do not wish to begrudge her her privacy, or a right to a decent life post her, ahem, indiscretions. I also would not feign to think myself "holier than…" anyone at all. But really, how is it that she came to receive such a title, not even being a 'real' New Yorker? What has she done (other than give America her dignity back)? Seriously folks, we may have forgiven her any ignominy, but have we honestly decided to embrace her to the degree that we would name her our own city's, the city's, IT GIRL? How, why? Perhaps, I thought, the answer lies inside the very article that proclaims her 'IT-ness'.

Indeed, upon peering inside the magazine, I found a new Monica; a Monica that surprised me. For instance, she's actually quite on the cutting edge of fashion. A trendsetter, if you will. It was reported that she makes a new project for herself each day, like "sewing a string of cloth roses onto a new tank top just for fun, or seeing what she can do with her BeDazzler, a staple gun that attaches rhinestones to jean jackets." Hmmm. Maybe we don't really know the 'real' Monica after all. It's been rumored that she may receive an honorary degree from FIT for her innovative BeDazzler work. In fact, she's been known to spend an entire afternoon scouring the city for the "perfect tassel" and the right "thingamabobbie." This is undeniably one credit to her 'ITness'.

But it doesn't end there. She's also been seen at some the City's most exclusive VIP hotspots. When asked if there was a place she would like to go with her interviewer, anywhere, anywhere at all, she suggested 'Our Name is Mud,' a pottery painting nook on the Upper West Side. If sweating next to a clay furnace while painting a second laminate coat on a teacup shaped like Snoopy isn't a hip, happenin' way to demonstrate your trendiness–well, I just don't know what is!"

So now that we've begun to see that Monica isn't the average little suburbanized rich girl we might have thought, we also discover, thanks to this reporter, that she also isn't just some cheap intern that enjoys spending her free time on her knees. Rather she has very high-cultured tastes. Upon invading her Christopher Street digs, it was reported that great works of literature, such as T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" and the works of Shakespeare graced her coffee table (next to Cosmo and Bridget Jones's Diary , which she considers "a culturally revolutionizing book"…oh well).

 

As much as I do hate to digress, I found her passion for Eliot, and the Prufrock poem in particular rather striking. A self-described "romantic at heart," Monica was said to have written a Valentine's day poem at the behest of a British magazine entitled, "To My Darling Prufrock." (as we all know, the Brits tend to take the best from our great land…Ricki Lake, Jerry Springer, Monica). I'll spare you her rendition of the poem. But reading the original—I couldn't help but wonder…why? What is the Prufrock/Monica connection? It seemed terribly ironic that a girl that turned the world on its head would love a poem whose most famous line is,

"Do I dare

Disturb the universe?"

br> What exactly is she thinking? Given the result of her 'improprieties', would not The Waste Land have been a better choice? At the risk of making Eliot turn in his grave, I will explore for a brief moment the connective tissue that may draw Monica to Prufrock in particular. Certainly it is a sensual poem,

"The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:"

This aspect of Miss M may not surprise us. But more than a love song, this seems to be an ode to fear.

"Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;"

The image of a comatose patient, lying still and spread out on a table, like the night sky, is hardly a romantic vision. Rather it conjures images of impotence, decrepitude, and immobility. Is she trying to tell us something??
No, no, my friends, not about Bill's skills (hey, that rhymes!), but about Monica's inner turmoil.

A patient etherized in not dead, but almost in a state of limbo between life and death. Is this how Monica feels? Unable to escape her "Monica-ness" is she in a state of perpetual limbo?

We feel your pain, Monica, and see that you are indeed a tortured soul. It's clear you've come to New York to escape to a place where you're free to start anew. You couldn't have said it better when you were quoted on the sense of liberation the Big Apple affords, saying, "After living for a while in L.A., you're like, 'Hello, I'd like some snow, please."
Yes, we hear you loud and clear.

So IT girl of ours, enjoy that snow, mingle with Candace Bushnell, give her some tips, and take some extra whip cream on that hot chocolate. We won't stop you here, in the land of second chances. New York has always been a haven for people with an infelicitous past. And you are now our poster girl for it! And good for us! We make millionaires out of virtual pariahs. And if we can appreciate them, we sure as hell can justify glamorizing you. Goodbye limbo, hello world!

As your coffee table Shakespeare once wrote, "This above all-to thine own self be true."
Polonius said it Laertes and I say it to you. So Mon, if making overpriced bags for Henri Bendel and selling them to clueless consumers is your true calling—more power to you. Maybe if you're as successful as we all know can be, you'll move up in the ranks, rising from New York's favorite IT girl to New York's most notorious bag-lady. Here's hoping!