Her very own maven
seems to have all the answers

Robyn’s Hood
By Robyn McCloskey

A few years back I read a very interesting book, The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell. It’s about how phenomena occur, stuff like the popularity of Hush Puppies footwear or the drop in the crime rate of New York City.
Gladwell explains how when a social epidemic reaches critical mass it becomes "the tipping point," and that’s where things seem to suddenly take off. He points out that a huge factor in any tipping point is word of mouth. And that happens in part via people whom Gladwell describes as "mavens."
Mavens are people who know a lot about everything and are happy to pass along that information — the living, breathing few among us. They somehow know the best doctors, the best vacation spots, the best time of year to plant tulips.
My own personal maven comes in the form of my friend Misty Flurry. Yes, that’s her real name. No, she’s not a porn star. It’s Misty that I turn to when I need to know what the weather is going to be like two weeks from now, what the capital of Uzbekistan is, or what’s currently on sale at Target.
She can talk to anybody about anything, easily spanning generation gaps. She even has the ability to talk to my two teenage daughters in a language I don’t understand. I hear them use words like Vera Bradley, Marc Jacobs and iPhone.
When my oldest daughter, Mallory, who is living in Manhattan for the summer, called crying about the bedbug infestation in her apartment and the subsequent bites on her arms, she asked for Misty’s number. She wanted to send a picture of her bitten arms via cell phone because she knew I would somehow screw it up.
Misty likes to tell people that the reason we became friends is that I stalked her, which is pretty much true. I first saw Misty about a year ago, when she was singing on the worship team at church. You can’t help but notice her. She is a raven-haired beauty, reminiscent of a young Elizabeth Taylor. She has the singing voice and stage presence of Judy Garland at her best bawdy self. Her clothes, which are always perfectly accessorized, reflect her personality: colorful and loud.
Some people were just blessed with more than their fair share. Others of us, well, we write weekly columns in newspapers.
But the minute I saw Misty I knew I wanted to be her friend, hence the stalking. I called her a few times, extending invitations to lunch, breakfast, coffee, whatever. She responded politely but was hesitant to commit. She later confessed to trying to blow me off, thinking she didn’t have the time for another friend.
After finally giving in to my pursuit, she admitted she was wrong about the whole "not needing another friend" thing. Being wrong doesn’t happen often with Misty, but I’m so glad she was. Misty and her husband Ernie have two adorable little girls. She’s a working mom who owns her own consulting business, and though she has tried on numerous occasions to explain to me exactly what she does, being the non-maven I am, I still have no clue.
Ernie called the other day to say he was planning to surprise Misty for her birthday by taking her to her favorite restaurant. He invited my husband and me to tag along. The reservations were made at Amada, a current Philadelphia hot spot, and of course Misty knew all about Amada long before any of us ever heard of it, so I wouldn’t be surprised if her "maven-like" way was somehow responsible for the restaurant’s current five-star status.
All I know is, Malcolm Gladwell seems to know what he’s talking about. There aren’t too many mavens running around. They make wonderful friends, especially if you’re planning a picnic and want to know if it will rain. ••
Robyn McCloskey’s column appears each week in the Northeast Times. She can be reached at crmccloskey@verizon.net