People who know me know my idea of a messy house is a coaster left out on the coffee table or a sprinkling of coffee grounds on the counter. I am amazed that other people’s homes often seem so cluttered and disjointed, yet they’re OK with it; how do they find anything, and what about all the dust that accumulates?

Without going into too much self-analysis, I think my need to have everything in its place and clean has to do with the chaotic household I grew up in. With four siblings and a dog, things were rarely quiet and organized. My bedroom was the only space in the house where I had complete control over what went where and how I chose to display it or keep it clean. I remember I would eagerly volunteer to clean our family’s basement or garage when things got too out of hand. I liked the satisfaction that it would look magazine-perfect, at least for a couple of hours. And so it is in the home I live in today.

Everything has its place, and I get uncomfortable if things are out of place for long. Thank goodness I am in a relationship with someone who thinks along the same lines, or one of us would surely be out on the street, angry or intolerant of the other’s seeming disregard for one’s need to be neat or, on the other side, disorderly. But still, I am slightly concerned and amused at the fact that, try as I might, I cannot settle down for the night unless I know things are in order downstairs. I hate waking up to non-fluffed pillows on the sofa, last night’s dishes, or a magazine carelessly sprawled on the floor. Therefore, I have a routine before heading upstairs where I don’t turn off the lights in a room until I am satisfied with how it looks. Somehow my brain just works better when such trivial points are dealt with. Some may find this obsessive, but I like to think of it is ongoing maintenance of a home I am extremely proud of.

Like any possession we cherish, it only makes sense to take good care of it—and that doesn’t mean simply doing a seasonal deep clean and putting the supplies away until the leaves turn again. It’s more than cleaning, it’s a sense of pride and attention to detail that many people seem to lack (I am anecdotally basing this on the number of people who have told my partner and I they have no idea how we keep the house looking so good all the time) but I have in excess.

Realistically, a more balanced approach would be better, but that doesn’t seem to be what works for me. Whether or not you think this is just being neat or crosses over to obsessive, I know that my being this way has helped me immeasurably when Paula and I have worked on books together. Being attentive to details, needing an orderly structure, and not backing down until the job is done have helped us meet many a deadline—and there’s still time to make sure the sofa pillows look good before turning out the light (and shutting down the computer)!

Paula’s Comments:
Bryan and I have been working together for eight years and while we clearly have differences we are often struck my our similarities (the joke between us is that I am a young gay man trapped in a Jewish woman’s body and Bryan is a middle-aged Jewish woman trapped in a gay man’s body J ). Like Bryan I cannot tolerate clutter (my motto is that everything is happier when it has a home and isn’t just left thrown about our left out of place). Yet again, Bryan and I are interchangeable, thank goodness, because I could never do this life on my own! 

Almost eight years ago I sat in Paula Begoun’s office in my red sport coat and tie having a conversation (OK, an interview) that would drastically change my future. I was working as a retail manager in cosmetics, and was ready for a change. Having been a fan of Paula’s books for years, I decided to visit her Web site, something I had not done in several months. As luck would have it, there was an employment ad on the home page for a makeup artist/journalist. I knew the makeup part quite well, and journalism was what I studied in college, so I applied. I had no idea if I would hear back from Paula. I didn’t know if she’d be comfortable talking with a man about cosmetics, seeing as her readership was predominantly female. But you never know unless you give it a go, so I did. About a week later I was meeting the Cosmetics Cop in person, being quizzed about ingredients, what I like and don’t like about working in the cosmetics industry, even which fashion magazines I routinely read. Although I was nervous, it was the first interview in my working life that felt natural rather than stilted.

The original interview actually turned into several more, with various job-related tests being assigned. Paula was nervous about hiring a co-writer, and had doubts that she’d be able to work on a book project with another writer without egos and viewpoints clashing. One of my assignments was to review the cosmetics line I was working for at the time. Paula wanted to see how well my writing style would blend with hers. I took to the project with gusto, turning in my “review” the next day. Paula was impressed, and that led to the next interview, which I’ll detail in another blog. Shortly after I began working for Paula, she told me that she initially thought my review of Aveda was just a minor re-write of what was in her book. She exclaimed I had some nerve if I thought she wouldn’t notice I just gave her own words a slight tweaking. But that wasn’t the case—I wrote the review from scratch (every writer’s fear: a blank computer screen save for the flashing cursor) and hoped for the best. It wasn’t until Paula passed my piece to others in the office that they pointed out I had not simply retooled her review. Rather, my writing style just happened to match hers in a nearly seamless manner. In essence, we had the same “voice” and I officially became Paula’s “mini-me”. So nearly eight years later, with five books, countless newsletters, and pages upon pages of Web content written with Paula, I’m still gainfully employed! Despite Paula’s concerns about sharing writing responsibilities, our working relationship has rarely been strained. Her experience, perspectives, and unfailing sense of humor blend perfectly with mine, and have seen us through many daunting projects. And she isn’t shy about celebrating, which is always a treat!

When I first started writing my books I was not in the position to have a research staff. Back in the day it was just me with pad and paper in hand fortified with enormous drive and conviction. I was going to get the information I needed to do my work, hell or high water. Regrettably it was often hell and even more often then that high water.

I remember once in the early 90s I was at Lord and Taylor in downtown Chicago shopping with my mother. I was going to do my thing at the cosmetic counters while my mother shopped. As my mother went to the handbag department, I approached the counters ready to do battle with whoever was lying in wait to stop me from my goal.

My technique was always the same, I would tell the salesperson that my dermatologist wanted to know the ingredients in the products I was using or wanted to use so he could determine if they were right for me. (Okay, I know that is a blatant lie and I’m not proud of it, but the truth rarely, if ever worked. This was the only way to accomplish what I needed to write my books.) This lie almost always gave me some amount of access for a period of time which could last with out incident anywhere from 15 minutes to occasionally even an hour. I would stand off to one side trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, then, as best I could, I began writing down ingredient listings as fast as my hand could fly across my notepad. The goal was to get as much done as I could before anyone took notice of me because once they did at some random moment the inevitable was sure to happen.

In this instance, the inevitable happened after about 30 minutes. One of the women from the other counters observed what I was doing and that was the end of my work. Usually the salesperson just asks me to leave but in this case she had actually called the store manager down and he arrived with a security guard in tow. Can you believe that! The store manager and the security guard, you would think I was shoplifting or worse wielding a weapon of some kind, my only weapon was my pad of paper which the security guard took from me. Now that was a first.

He told me I was to leave immediately and they would escort me out. As innocently as I could (though my anger and frustration I’m sure came through) I asked what the problem was given I was only writing down information that was legally there for the consumer and that I was almost done and I was going to go shopping in other parts of the store (by the way, that part wasn’t a lie). But nooooo, the manager insisted the information on the label was proprietary (yah, right, proprietary my ass) and that what I was doing could get me arrested but because I was there with my mother he wasn’t going to call the police. It probably didn’t help that my mother was yelling at him with full voice exclaiming that he should leave her daughter alone, by then he wanted us out of there as soon as possible.

The reason no one else writes the kind of books I do is because no one would put up with the insults and threats I’ve dealt with over the years to do their research. From cosmetics salespeople to angry cosmetic companies, I piss off a lot of people. Thankfully, I rarely make my readers mad, 7 editions of my book later there are enough people who don’t want to go to the cosmetic counter without me that I will continue doing what I do, and putting up with insanity at the counters. Although nowadays, thankfully, I have a team of researchers who for the past four editions of my book have saved me from the wrath, fury, and peril that I had to put up with at the cosmetic counters in the past.