Kelly Carter and Lucy at the Ritz-Carlton, Laguna Niguel

Today marks the 10th anniversary of when I met Lucy. When I awoke this morning, I went to her bed, bent down, gave her a kiss on her head and whispered “Happy anniversary. I love you,” in her ear. She responded with wet licks across my nose.

I’m not quite sure how we’ll honor this day. I wanted to have a party tonight to celebrate our decade together and the launch of my new luxury pet travel site, The Jet Set Pets, but the site isn’t quite ready. Maybe we’ll go to a dog bakery though Lucy never seems to enjoy anything from dog bakeries. Now, real bakeries are a different subject. She’ll gobble up anything.

I still remember the day when I picked her up. The night before our first meeting I interviewed the cast of Ocean’s 11 together for USA Today. I sat at a round table with George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, Matt Damon, Don Cheadle, Andy Garcia and director Steven Soderbergh. As much fun as it was to chat with that gang all at once (I gained a great deal of respect for Brad when he offered to get me something when somebody mentioned liquor), the real treat in my life was the next day when I flew to Pasco, Wash., to pick up my baby.

She was eight months old and her name was Wendy. She had been living with the Chihuahua breeder, who for reasons unbeknownst to me, was willing to part with the dog she had made her pet. But who was I to question it? I was happy to get Wendy. The breeder asked if I wanted to come to see the place where Wendy was born but I wasn’t interested. I planned to hop the next flight back to L.A. with my precious little package.

Who knew what was in store for the two of us? I knew we would travel together, which is why I chose a tiny dog. But I didn’t know what a terrific little pal she would become. Sure, we’ve had our ups and downs as anyone who knows us knows. There was a time early on when I thought I would have to get rid of her because of her diva attitude. But a behavior specialist stepped in and salvaged our relationship. And there was a stretch in Italy when her name became Lucifer because she  had turned into such a devil. And there are many moments when she lives up to the name on her dog dish, which read “Bitch Bowl.” I can count the times on one hand when she’s greeted me at the door. She prefers that I come and greet her when I come home. That’s typical of  longhair Chihuahuas, who have high opinions of themselves.

Despite all that, I love my little Lucy something fierce. I spend countless hours in my office pecking away at the keyboard and she’s right with me, curled up in a ball surrounded by magazines.

Lucy spends countless hours in Kelly's office.

She follows me from room to room, running up and down the stairs behind me, the bell dangling from her collar clinging against a darling Swarovski crystal charm to play a musical tune that I adore hearing. When I take a rare break and retreat to the living room with a glass of wine and package of raw almonds, she’s comes along with me. When I’m in the kitchen cooking, she watches intently though I know she’s waiting for a piece of 24-month aged Parmigiano Reggiano to drop on the floor. When I pull an occasional all-nighter, she tries to do the same,  struggling to keep her eyes open and on me. After 10 years together she knows my every move and can predict what I’m going to do before I do it. I can look at her cute, little face and tell what she’s thinking, know whether she’s happy or sad.

On the rare occasions when she’s not home with me, the house feels incredibly empty and silent without her.  She may only stand four inches off the ground but she has a huge personality that fills several rooms. I often wonder what she thinks when she looks at me with those big, black eyes of hers. I’m sure every pet parent would love to know the same! I depend on her to let me know whether a guy is right or wrong. Her instincts are incredible! When she’s been indifferent to someone, it’s for good reason as I later find out. I’m sure she looks at me and thinks, “What took you so long to figure that out?”

Lucy and I certainly have figured each other out. Here’s to hoping we have several more wonderful and memorable years together.

Kelly E. Carter and Michael Mina at American Fish inside Aria Las Vegas

When it comes to fine dining, I’ll bet that Las Vegas wins hands down over any other city in the country based on the number of fantastic restaurants within close proximity of one another. Any takers?

Since gluttony is a sin, I admit I’ve sinned plenty in the city known as Sin City. In Vegas I’ve gorged at the restaurants of some of the most notable celebrity chefs around the country (and even world in some cases), including Michael Mina,  Jean-Georges Vongerichten,  Masa Takayama, Joël Robouchon, José Andrés,  Paul Bartolotta, Guy Savoy, Shawn McClain, Julian Serrano and Pierre Gagnaire. Consider that their eateries are within walking distance of one another and you can see why I’m calling Las Vegas the dining capital of America, based on radius.

From a foodie’s perspective, the best time to be in Vegas is this weekend for Food & Wine All-Star Weekend, taking place Oct-21-23 at Aria Resort & Casino and Bellagio Resort & Casino. Food & Wine’s Gail Simmons hosts the epicurean adventure that features some of the aforementioned chefs (Mina, Serrano, Takayama, Vongerichten and Maccioni), 2011 Food & Wine Best New Chef and Top Chef winner Stephanie Izard and a smorgasbord of others from the culinary and mixology world.

Here’s the mouth-watering lineup:

Friday, October 21

8 p.m. – 11 p.m.
First Course: Kick-off party hosted by Gail Simmons at ARIA View Bar featuring a star-studded lineup of celebrity chefs and alumni from Top Chef. Guests will enjoy cocktails and passed hors d’oeuvres.

11 p.m. – 1 a.m.
Second Course: The Deuce Lounge at ARIA will be the setting for a fun after-party as each chef hosts blackjack at a gaming table.

Sit in on a game, sip delicious cocktails and enjoy a simply delectable dessert bar from Top Chef Just Desserts winner Yigit Pura.

Saturday, October 22

Noon – 2 p.m.
A New American Lunch: FOOD & WINE Contributor and Wine Expert Anthony Giglio and Top Chef cheftestant Stephanie Izard co-host this exciting sit-down luncheon at ARIA’s Sage. Delicious cuisine by Sage Executive Chef Shawn McClain and exquisite cocktail and beer pairings made exclusively by Giglio will impress guests during the afternoon, providing a fun, culinary experience at the award-winning restaurant.

Luxe Lunch: Hosted in Bellagio’s Tuscany Kitchen, this extraordinary lunch is part cooking demonstration, part three-course luncheon and part wine tasting. This exciting event will be hosted by Gail Simmons with Top Chef’s Season 5 winner Hosea Rosenberg providing a cooking demo and Bellagio Master Sommelier and Director of Wine Jason Smith pairing each course with complementary wine.

8 p.m. – 11 p.m.
All-Star Tasting: The main event takes place poolside at ARIA and will feature host Gail Simmons, Bravo’s Top Chef cheftestants Yigit Pura, Stephanie Izard, Hosea Rosenberg, Angelo Sossa and Sam Talbot in addition to the signature restaurants of ARIA: Jean Georges Steakhouse, Sirio Ristorante, Julian Serrano, BARMASA and Sage. Each participating chef will create a sample-sized portion of a signature dish for guests to taste. Cocktails, wine and beer also will be served. Many of ARIA’s award-winning chefs and restaurateurs will be in attendance including Masa Takayama, Shawn McClain, Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Michael Mina and Sirio Maccioni.

Sunday, October 23

11 a.m. Champagne & Caviar Brunch: Hosted by FOOD & WINE Contributing Editor and Wine Expert Anthony Giglio, Jasmine at Bellagio will make guests’ champagne wishes and caviar dreams come true at this buffet brunch set against the backdrop of the breathtaking Bellagio Fountains. Featuring a specialty Bloody Mary Bar created by Bellagio Master Mixologist Matt Myers and brunch favorites from Top Chef Season 5 winner Hosea Rosenberg.

Bon appetit!

German Shepherd photo courtesy of Maggie Smith

Reading Susan Orlean’s opinion piece in today’s New York Times on the decline in popularity of the German Shepherd sent me back to my childhood when our family had a German Shepherd. I don’t remember much about that dog except that he wasn’t with us very long — unlike our darling French poodle, who was part of our family until her death.

The one thing I do remember about the German Shepherd was his bark being so forceful that it once knocked down the Christmas cards perched on the fireplace mantle and bookshelves. I was either four or five years old. And I have a vague memory of him biting my brother, which I guess could have resulted in him no longer being a part of the family. The dog, not my brother.

I didn’t know until I read Orlean’s column that the German Shepherd was once the dog of choice for families across America. It’s funny how breeds of dogs are trendy just like designers or food. Call Christian Louboutin and pork belly the German Shepherds of today.

I don’t know what the hot dog is now (no pun intended). Well, it’s the Labrador Retriever  and has been for 20 years by the American Kennel Club standards. But it seems to me that in the last decade it was the Chihuahua. I’d like to think I started that trend when I selected Lucy in 2001 but maybe it had something to do with the “Yo Quiero Taco Bell” ad that started a few years earlier.  Breeders couldn’t pump out Chihuahuas fast enough to meet the demand of people who stupidly thought that Chihuahuas really could talk. When these pet parents realized their dogs couldn’t be taught to speak, they abandoned them and that resulted in shelters full of Chihuahuas.

And then came the Reese Witherspoon hit film Legally Blonde in the summer of 2001 followed by Chihuahua, a song recorded by Swiss artist DJ BoBo that was the summer rage in 2003.

Click to Play!

OK, so maybe I didn’t have anything to do with the popularization of Chihuahuas, a breed that has withstood the test of trendiness. Next month Lucy and I will celebrate our 10th year together. I think a party is in order. The Jet Set Pets, a luxury pet travel site Lucy inspired me to create, will officially launch next month so I can have a dual celebration. Oh why not make a trifecta since my birthday is in November as well?

I can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since Lucy became my family. She’s a terrific little companion and brings such joy to my life — though she can be a handful with that diva attitude of hers. (Honestly, I don’t know where she gets it!)  A platonic male friend recently asked me if I ever considered becoming a mother because he wanted to have a baby but didn’t want to be a husband. I told him that the thought of motherhood never crossed my mind, except becoming a pet parent to Lucy.

And to think, I almost missed that opportunity. I had started shopping for a dog in the spring of 2001 but stopped when my mother fell ill that summer. After she passed away on Sept. 17, 2001, I wondered whether I really wanted to become a pet parent knowing I would likely outlive my four-legged friend. Could I bear to lose something else so dear to me after losing my mother, to whom I was extremely close? But someone told me that I should focus on the years of fun I can spend with a pet rather than the time when nature runs its course. It’s like the quote that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Who knows how many more years Lucy and I will have together? Chihuahuas live to be around 15 or 17 and both of us are in terrific health. But nothing is promised to any of us. So we’ll just continue to enjoy our days together and keep Chihuahuas in the “trending now” category.

Thank you Maggie Smith for the photo of the German Shepherd!

Today would have been Lucille Ball’s 100th birthday and in honor of this amazing actress, there’s an I Love Lucy marathon running on the Hallmark Channel that is keeping me up. I hope to see the hilarious wine-making episode in Italy, which is much more relevant to my life now than when I first saw it decades ago.

Personally, I would rather drink wine that stomp grapes to turn into wine but I understand there are wineries that let you stomp grapes and pretend to be Lucy in Turo, Italy.

Few people know just how much I thought of Lucille Ball when I was a kid. In grade school I read every book on her that I could get my hands on and made her the subject of papers. I was smitten! I always knew whenever I got a pet of my own, I would name her Lucy. One person who does know is my friend Maureen, whom I met in Italy and who writes the Urban Travel Girl blog. I still treasure the two DVDs of I Love Lucy and The Lucy Show episodes that she sent me to Positano.

Back to the Hallmark Channel. Right now they quartet is headed to Hollywood and have stopped in Albuquerque to visit Ethel’s father. What’s your favorite I Love Lucy episode? When Lucy and Ethel took jobs in the chocolate factory? Lucy making bread? Vitameatavegamin? Would love to know.

I would understand if the supermodel wanted to sue because the company didn’t pay her to use her first name, though I haven’t consulted an attorney to determine whether she would have a legit claim. But I don’t know when being called “chocolate” became a negative. Who doesn’t love chocolate?

For years my skin tone has been referred to as “chocolate” by Blacks and whites, even as recently as Memorial Day, and I can’t remember ever taking offense. I grew up in the “Say it loud! I’m black and I’m proud!” era.  I remember back in the 90s, one summer I wanted to see just how dark I could become. I spent seven days in Hawaii and never left the pool during daylight hours. When I returned home and looked at myself naked in the mirror, I looked like a zebra. My skin that had been exposed was about 20 times darker than the skin that my bikini covered. I loved it! (Yeah, I know I should do nude bathing not to have so-called “tan” lines.)

I know that being  this dark isn’t cool for some, including some Blacks who have told me I shouldn’t spend so much time in the sun. And trust me, they were not concerned about me getting skin cancer. Plenty of countries, especially those in Asia, still associate being dark with being a field hand. That’s why yachts purchased by wealthy Chinese might as well come with a cover-up deck rather than a sun deck.

High-profile people such as Isaac Hayes, Richard Roundtree, Cicely Tyson, Sidney Poitier, Iman and even Michael Jordan helped those who couldn’t have passed the paper bag test back when that insulting way to discriminate amongst our own was in effect appreciate their coffee-bean complexion. Later, women like Alek Wek and Foxy Brown, and even more recently First Lady Michelle Obama and Viola Davis, have helped people see beauty in our darkness. I’m thankful my parents didn’t hold back their love for me and my brother just because we came out so dark. I have Black friends who unfortunately have experienced rejection from their family because of their dark skin tone.

That’s about as ridiculous to me as Naomi’s complaint.

Or am I missing something regarding Miss Naomi? Is she overreacting?

Have I been under a rock? Rosa Mexicano is opening a second location in L.A.! Why am I just now learning of this?

Between preparing for the any-day-now official launch of  The Jet Set Pets, my new luxury pet travel website,  still trying to survive as a freelance journalist during a time when good reporting is no longer valued and trying to make Bellini for One, my memoir detailing my two-year experience living in Italy, a reality I haven’t had time to stay on top of my food blogs.

So I was pleasantly shocked to read that this summer Rosa will open on the Sunset Strip, replacing Borracho Cantina. L.A. has so many great Mexican restaurants so it’s hard to believe that we need anymore. But if we do then I’m glad that it is Rosa’s, which was one of my favorite places to hang with friends when I lived in New York. I couldn’t have been more thrilled when Rosa’s opened an outpost in downtown L.A. after I returned home. Though I must admit  it’s not as enjoyable as the one on Columbus Avenue — unless you have a designated driver. Even though there are two other Rosa’s in Manhattan, in my opinion, even they don’t compare to the one on the Upper West Side. There’s just something special about sitting across from Lincoln Center, usually with my dear friend Lori Berlin of ESPN (that’s her seated in the middle in the above photo taken at Rosa’s), devouring the best guac in  New York and slurping Rosa’s signature pomegranate margaritas. And then there was José, my fave bartender, who always had a smile on his face.

I can’t wait to see if the latest spot on the Sunset Strip holds a lady of liberty torch to the Lincoln Center location. Though I have a feeling I know what my answer will be.

What’s your favorite Rosa Mexicano locale?

If you read the “postcards” I wrote when I lived in Italy then you may recall Susan. I shared her inspirational story then and continue to do so every time a parent tells me they can’t move somewhere because of their school-age kids. I point to Susan and her husband Tim, who on the spur of the moment during a business trip to Italy, made the courageous decision to give up their fast-paced lives in LA and move their daughter Katie, 15, and son Matthew, 11,  to the boot-shaped country, where life is slower and the family could reconnect.  We moved to Italy within a couple of months of each other but didn’t meet until several months later when Lucy and I stopped to visit them en route to Monte Carlo. Tim is a major player in the radio business and two of my friends in radio suggested I contact him, which I did.

Today I went back to see what I wrote about the Pohlmans (that’s Tim and Susan below on ONE of the three terraces in their apartment in Nervi, Italy)  in Postcard 7, dated March 25, 2004, and found this:

I spent the night in the small town of Nervi at the Pohlman’s, an American couple who moved to Italy from suburban L.A. last year. A couple of you guys put me in contact with them. You might recall I was going to meet them last fall but I never did make it as our schedules conflicted. I’m glad I finally got to meet them as they are so inspiring. Their story: a husband is on a business trip in Santa Margherita, which is on the Italian Riviera and near Portofino. His wife is with him. As they relaxed by the hotel pool they said, wouldn’t it be nice to move here. They both agreed and said, but what about the kids. They asked the pool man if there was an American school nearby and he said yes and told them where it was. The wife has a master’s in education and grilled the schoolmaster. Convinced that their kids could receive a proper education they wondered where they would live. They went to a nearby real estate agency and were shown a fabulous, and I do mean incredible, three bedroom, three-bathroom, rooftop apartment with three terraces facing the sea. They had to decide that day whether to take the apartment because other people were interested. They signed the rental papers, which were written in Italian, not even knowing what they were signing as the extent of their Italian was “Ciao.” They went home and told their kids, now age 16 and 12, that they were moving, sold their house, their furniture, their cars and the husband quit his job. Within two months they had moved to Italy. Is that incredible or what? After a torturous 6-week period to adapt to Italy (they moved in late July, there was a heat wave and their air conditioning didn’t work) the kids fell in love with their new surroundings. But not every story has a happy ending and sadly the Pohlmans have decided to return to the States in August. Like all the Americans here who don’t earn money in euros, the weak dollar is killing them. The American school costs $20,000 annually for two kids. Prices are as high as Los Angeles. They really don’t want to go but sometimes one has to be sensible when you’re talking about an entire family.

What I didn’t know at the time was that Susan had planned to tell Tim she wanted a divorce as soon as they returned from that fateful business trip. The move to Italy saved their marriage! The couple is still married today and lives in Scottsdale. I know what my two years abroad did for me personally. Multiply that by four and I know, after reading Halfway to Each Other, what it did for the entire Pohlman clan.

Of course I connected with the book because I was able to reminisce about the disorganization of Italy’s bureaucracy when it comes to things like getting a permesso di sigiorno (permit to stay), the lack of air conditioning during the horrific summer of 2003 when record-breaking heat killed thousands throughout Europe, adjusting to grocery shopping, the infamous transportation strikes, parallel parking Italian style, being reluctant to cook for Italians, and the sheer joy of waking up without the stress of being anywhere or having to do anything at any certain time. I laughed out loud while reading this book and teared up at passages relating to the simplistic beauty of tender moments the Pohlmans shared.

Because Susan is brutally honest in her book, it was educational for me, a true singleton, to read about real experiences of the joys and struggles of being married and constantly compromising. She doesn’t sugar coat what marriage or motherhood is.

Susan envies me for being so brave to move to Italy on my own (okay, so I did have Lucia too) but I marvel at what she did with a husband, a teenager and a pre-teen. It was not easy but my goodness, what an experience to savor for the rest of their lives. That family, especially Katie, was forever changed for the better.

If you’re not able to spend a year in Italy like the Pohlmans, do the next best thing and read Halfway to Each Other. You’ll swear you were there. I know I did.

Ciao!

I had already planned to write this post before I heard about Elizabeth’s death. I’m sure she isn’t the only woman to die of the disease today considering breast cancer is expected to kill 39,840 women this year but she is the most famous. May she rest in peace.

Because I’m a victim of the economy and don’t have  health insurance, I went to the Watts Clinic for today’s mammo. While sitting in the waiting room, a tough-looking and tough-talking woman came in and approached the receptionist’s desk with the grace of a bull.

“Do you still do that thing where they put your breast in a machine and squeeze it hard?” she asked.

After being told the procedure had not changed, the lady said she didn’t want a mammogram because it was too painful.

Being that I find it hard to keep my mouth shut around ignorant people, I said to her, “Cancer hurts a lot more than a mammogram.”

She gave me a who-in-the-hell-are-you look and replied, “Well, I don’t have cancer and I’m not gonna.”

“You could,” I said. “One out of seven women get breast cancer. I’ve lost friends to breast cancer. At least if you get a mammogram…”

She harrumphed as she sat down. I continued to stare at her, hoping my words and my glare would sink in. She stared back at me.

“Early detection,” she said meekly.

“Yes. It’s about early detection.”

“Do you get them every year?”

Now her bravado was gone.

“Yes,” I told her.

“A colonoscopy too?”

I told her although I’m not 50, two years ago my doctor suggested I have one so I did. Now I’m good to go for another several years. She told me she was 51, hadn’t had one and didn’t want one. I explained the prep and the procedure and told her she wouldn’t even feel anything because she’d be out.

“I don’t want anyone digging around in me and I don’t know what they’re doing,” she said, putting on her tough mask again.

I just smiled at her.

“What are they looking for? Cancer?” she asked.

Polyps, I told her, not knowing if that was correct but it’s the first thing that came to mind. By now, I could see she was relying on me and I couldn’t show any lack of education.

The technician then called my name. I stood up to leave, walked to the door and turned back to look at the lady.

“Good luck,” I told her.

“You too.”

I don’t understand women who say they don’t get mammograms because of the pain. They’re not even painful if you ask me. And if you think they are and use that as an excuse,  just compare it to radiation and chemotherapy.

I never cared for the title of the poems when they were all the rage in the 1970s. I thought it was a book about weak women who offed themselves because they couldn’t cope with life. Silly me. I was young and didn’t know that this collection, first presented in December 1974 at Bacchanal, a women’s bar outside of Berkeley, was considered perhaps  the most important work about black female identity ever. (Don’t tell me you thought it was Waiting to Exhale.)

So when I went to a screening the other night, I had no idea what to expect. I purposely avoided reading the early reviews, including the one by The Hollywood Reporter that garnered so much attention in the blogosphere, and went in with an open mind. I left with a clouded mind of disturbing scenes I may never forget — but more importantly with a smile knowing the eight women above were on the right path. I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, which at times was difficult to watch. I only would have changed one major thing and that is, with all of the free clinic options today, why would someone go to a drunk, back-alley abortionist in 2010? Other than that, no complaints from me.

There will be those who pick on Tyler for showing black men as being on the DL, physical abusers, rapists and cheaters. But as the director said, he decided to insert one positive image of a black men to offset the negative characters. A few more would have balanced the scales but I personally don’t see the need. I didn’t leave the theater thinking any less of black men and hope others won’t either. I may never smile at Michael Ealy again after he played his role so superbly just like I haven’t smiled at Laurence Fishburne since he  owned the role of Ike Turner in What’s Love Got to Do with It.

Had I not gone to the screening, I’m pretty sure I would have paid to see this movie because of the fine collection of actresses. It would have been the first time I gave Tyler my money. I’ve seen a few of his films but only on cable: Why Did I Get Married, Daddy’s Little Girls and Diary of Mad Black Woman. And I enjoyed all three. It’s not that I boycott his movies. I just haven’t been drawn to them enough to pull out my wallet nor have I ever been tempted to watch one of his television shows. (For the record, I haven’t seen The Social Network yet though want to and will before award season starts. And I think I was one of the last to see Avatar.) Personally, I like Tyler. When his mother died, I was moved enough to post a note expressing my condolences on his website because I knew how close they were. Also,I appreciate all the good Tyler is doing for black actors and give him props for creating his own studio.  His power cannot be diminished. And I’m glad to see that he’s used it for such a worthwhile project like For Colored Girls.

I do hope you’ll see For Colored Girls. Let me know your thoughts if you do.

When I Tweeted that I was reluctant to cheer for fellow Trojan Mark Sanchez and his New York Jets in tonight’s Monday Night Football because of the Ines Sainz scandal, a male colleague sent me this SMS to my mobile: Love to talk about Jet/female journalist thing. I think she sets u all back with inappropriate “work” attire. No excuses for boorish behavior. But you would never dress like she does and expect to be taken seriously. A lot of women like u paid dues and would not wear painted jeans to work.”

I wasn’t aware of how Sainz, a former beauty pageant contestant now on Mexico’s TV Azteca, dressed so went online and came across an array of photos of her wearing swimwear or less than that on magazine covers, as well as this photos she Tweeted of herself:

Well, maybe I would have worn painted jeans to work if I could find them to hug my lack of curves like Sainz’ fit her. But with a 36-inch inseam and no ass or hips, that was not an easy task. Instead, I rocked mini-skirts for a good deal of my sports writing days. During the four years I covered the Lakers, my standard work uniform was a mini-skirt, opaque tights, a turtleneck and blazer. Cognizant that my tiny skirts could raise eyebrows, I went to a few of the Laker wives and asked them if they thought my skirts were too short to wear around their husbands. They gave me the thumbs up and said, my legs are so long that it doesn’t matter what I wear, the men are going to look. With their blessing I continued rockin’ my mini skirts into my days covering the NFL.

I like to think I’m above average when it comes to beauty and sex appeal. Did I use it to my advantage when I covered sports? You betcha! The same way as I did my height and anything else short of sex in this competitive field. But I don’t care if I’m walking into a room with Rupert Everett, Liberace, Elton John, George Michael, Lance Bass, and Ricky Martin — I want to turn heads and feel sexy. I used to look at the female sportswriters who wore ties and oversize suits more suitable for men and wondered how come they tried to downplay their gender. I dressed like a lady and still managed to gain — and keep– the respect of coaches, players and team officials. There are limits. I would never wear a deep plunging blouse with a mini-skirt into a locker room but that’s not how I dress anyway unless I’m on vacation in a foreign land.

That being said, or written, I don’t think female sports journalists need to completely cover up when going to work.  Instead, professional athletes need to behave like their title indicates. Brushing off their juvenile behavior as “boys will be boys” is just as wrong as it to say Sainz deserved what she got because of the way she dresses. That’s like saying a rape victim got what she had coming because she wore a flimsy sundress in August. A female member of the sports media should be allowed to work in a hassle-free environment, regardless of what she wears to work (within reason of course). It was hot as Hades during NFL training camps but I could never dress as revealing as my male colleagues, who showed up to work in shorts and tank tops. They never hear catcalls and Sainz and the other female journalists should not either.