[The Women's Room] is one of those pieces of fiction that reveals itself in a different way every time. It's incredible.

I don't know where it's come from, but after many years of many different products, I feel like I can speak as an authority on a lot of them.

I'm on Grace And Frankie, which is also about that time in life, I'm realizing. But I would - so I guess I am sort of in that show. But there's something about The Golden Girls and the sort of multicam set and Bea Arthur that I just want to be around those ladies all day long, and I want to be on those comfy couches and want to sit in that kitchen in those chairs in those pastels, and I want to wear Blanche's outfits and it's just really... and I want to sit outside in that weird little courtyard.

I'm not necessarily [into] pricey products, and I'm not recommending super-fancy stuff. It's more the consistency and the sunblock of it all, engaging in that process - I can be a little snobby about it.

The sexual revolution... it was the first time I had read anything that came close to describing those feelings of being outside of my body, feeling the shame, all of it, that I really was able to connect to in that book. So it sort of blew my mind. I was also listening to Tori Amos at the same time, so I was like, "Wait, what's happening?!" It was all a part of that, probably when I was, like, 13.

I think, is a cultural thing, too. You know, everyone wants to see the baby. Everybody's bringing gifts for the baby.

[The Women's Room] was the first thing I read that explained a lot of the feelings I was having and a lot of the rage and the feeling uncomfortable in my body and knowing that I was feeling a certain way in the world, but I didn't have the language for it.