From the New York Post’s Page Six:

Dance Lessons

“Dancer Isadora Duncan spent her final days trying to educate Henry Ford. A letter dated 1927, the year of her death, is on sale at momentsintime.com for $15,000 in which Duncan defends her choreography against the auto magnate’s charges that it was too sexual. Ford wanted children taught classical dances such as the waltz rather than racier styles like the Charleston. ‘Just as you would not teach a child of any free Republic the doctrines of Louis XV or George III,’ Duncan chided, ‘so you would not teach to a child the courtesan movement of the Minuet or the coquettish sex expression of the Polka.’”

Myron Floren: Coquette?

Mint has been used as a breath freshener for centuries. In the middle ages, young men who were on their way to their beloved’s would alter their course in order to pass by the herb garden first. They would pull off a few peppermint leaves, toss them into their mouths, and chew them for a while in hopes of covering up the stench coming from the abscessed molar that they had yet to have the blacksmith pull.

This historical association of “mint” with “fresh breath” seems to be so ingrained in our collective psyche that nearly every toothpaste and mouthwash you buy today is mint-flavored. Listerine is, of course, the obvious exception, but its competitors mocked it so mercilessly by saying that their own products left your breath “minty, not mediciny,” that Pfizer finally relented and came out with Listermint. This just reinforced the belief that the ultimate aspiration of all human beings should be to have a mouth of which it could be said that it is “minty fresh.”

But our mouths are not enough anymore; now they want our whole heads. Nearly every hair care company has come out with some product that has mint as a featured ingredient. In fact, Aveda’s most popular product line is their Rosemary Mint Shampoo and Conditioner, whose “tonic properties of rosemary and peppermint cool and revitalize your scalp.”

But the “tonic” and “cooling” properties they are touting are not necessarily coming from the peppermint, per se, but a derivative thereof:

mint (‘mint) n. Any of various plants of the genus Mentha, characteristically having aromatic foliage and nearly regular flowers. Some plants are cultivated for their aromatic oil and used for flavoring.

menthol (‘men-“thol) n. A white crystalline organic compound, CH₃C₆H₉(C₃H₇)OH, obtained from peppermint oil or synthesized, and used in cigarettes and as a mild topical anesthetic.

So, of course it leaves your scalp feeling “cool”; you’ve lost all sensation from the ears up.

I first noticed this “mild topical anesthetic” effect when using American Crew’s Daily Shampoo and Conditioner. They say that the menthol in these products “cools and refreshes the scalp,” but I found that as I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair some of it would run down my body and, if I wasn’t careful to rinse it off completely, I’d get a rather unwelcome cooling and refreshing effect in an area of my body that doesn’t usually react well to being cooled and refreshed.

This mentholic sensation is referred to as a “tingle” by the makers of Denorex, the anti-dandruff shampoo:

The tingle tells you it’s working, and Denorex leaves your scalp feeling fresh and clean!

…and numb. Come on, guys, admit it. The only thing that tingle is telling you is that you just smeared the active ingredient in Vicks VapoRub all over your head.

I firmly believe that when it comes to the bathroom:

Aromatherapy:	Good
Anesthesia:	Bad

And I can think of a few other rooms in the house where that axiom holds true.

• Kathy Bates once said, “Hi,” to me and tried to initiate a pleasant conversation with my young niece who was with me at the time. My niece (who knows better than to talk to strangers) looked at her with a bored expression, turned, and walked away. Ms. Bates and I exchanged exasperated smiles. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “I guess an Oscar doesn’t hold much sway with the pre-adolescent crowd,” turned, and walked away.

• I’ve peed next to Hume Cronyn.

• I sat behind John Cusack and Tim Robbins at the premiere of Tapeheads. I was going to go up to them afterwards and tell them how much I loved the film…but that would have been lying, so I didn’t.

• I was once sitting in a rather cramped seat in coach, waiting for the plane to take off, when Chris Farley appeared in the doorway at the front of the plane. He proceeded to walk past me down the aisle to the rear of the plane and I thought, “Wow, he’s riding in coach. I always knew he was down-to-earth.” Just then, he came back down the aisle on the opposite side and took his seat in first-class. I got the impression that he wanted to make one circuit around the parade route to announce his arrival and bless the lives of the commoners before taking his rightful place up front.

• On a flight to Hawaii, I had an in-depth conversation with Spalding Gray‘s toddler son about Beanie Babies.

• While working the door at a post-premiere party at the Sundance Film Festival, I was patently ignored by David Lynch, but Isabella Rosselini, who was with him, looked me right in the eye, smiled that beautiful smile of hers and inquired, “How are you, this evening?” I couldn’t have been better.

• I once rummaged through a dumpster with Andrew McCarthy, who really, really wanted a certain pink, plastic visor that I had thrown away earlier that day.

• My in-laws live next door to the wife and daughters of the Grateful Dead’s Brent Mydland. I’ve roasted marshmallows in their backyard.

• Donny Osmond is married to my cousin, Debbie.

• Martha Plimpton once thought that I was yelling at her, even though I was trying to get someone else’s attention.

• Robert Redford and I have a little schtick that we do every time we’re in the same room together. He always looks over at me with this expression that says, “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar, but I can’t quite place you.” I always give him a little smile that says, “Nope, I’m nobody,” and he gives me a nod that says, “Thanks.”

• My in-laws are good friends with Joey Skaggs, who tends to make fun of me whenever I visit.

• One summer I was playing “Motel, the Tailor” in a production of Fiddler on the Roof at the Sundance Summer Theater. I had grown my hair out, had a neatly-trimmed beard, and I was wearing small, round glasses at the time. As I was walking through the lobby of a movie theater one day, a woman grabbed her companion’s arm and, pointing directly at me, hissed, “Look, it’s Steven Spielberg!” OK, so I’ve never met Mr. Spielberg personally, but I think I can count this one since I was him for a few seconds.

• I once almost plowed into Dr. Ruth Westheimer while hurrying around the corner of a narrow hallway. (She’s quite short, so she’s hard to see.) I apologized profusely, but she just smiled and said quite enthusiastically, “It is no problem!” in that cute little clipped German accent of hers.

I had the most bizarre dream last night. In it, Justin Timberlake and I were the best of friends and we were in Canada for some sort of national celebration where he was going to be honored for something or other (presumably his humanitarian efforts on behalf of teenage girls the world over).

At some point a panic broke out and the young, screaming girls at the front of the crowd were being crushed against the front barricades. Justin and I leapt into action, pulling the girls to safety. The girls, who by then had turned into Naomi Watts, Nicole Kidman, and various other very attractive women, expressed their gratitude for our efforts and asked if there was anything they could do to thank us <wink, wink>…and that’s when I woke up.

No matter how hard I tried to fall back asleep, there was no going back. It was gone. But for the longest time I had that lingering glow that comes from having a celebrity as a best friend and the opportunities for heroism (and Naomi Watts) that arise as a result of that friendship.

For those of you who are curious, Justin is quite charming and down-to-earth when you get to know him.