Collegiate Times

Much has been written about the recent economic downturn that has affected all aspects of American life. However, what about the privileged upper middle and upper class societies in the greater New York City area? How has the collapse of financial and publishing industries affected them? One answer is proffered by Dominique Browing’s memoir, “Slow Love: How I Lost My Job, Put on My Pajamas & Found Happiness.”

Browning lost her job in the fall of 2007 and after being unable to find steady employment when the magazine she worked for closed, she was forced to sell her house, leave New York City and start over again in another town — hardly an unfamiliar tale to anyone with an unemployed friend or relative.

Browning’s job that she lost? It was a managing editor position at House & Garden, a former Condé Nast title. And the house that she was forced to sell? One of two that she owned, the other being a summer home in Rhode Island upon which major renovations had just been completed when she was thrown out of work. Comfortable upper middle class lifestyle dripping with privilege? Now there’s an angle that hasn’t been explored.

Browning fills her post-Condé Nast days with activity: farmers market shopping, fetishistic purchases of men’s pajamas and gourmet cookies, emotional eating, wine drinking and naps. Her method of dealing with depression? Working on the garden and scouring the Internet for bran muffin recipes at two o’clock in the morning. Pep talks are delivered to Browning via friends bearing gifts of handmade pottery and family recipes. An OBGYN affectionately termed “Dr. Pat” inquires about Browning’s underwear (in a scene that can only be described as “TMI”) and puts her on the “Dr. Pat’s Diet” after her emotional eating binges put fifteen points on her frame.

Far more fascinating that Browning’s pajama shopping and marathon baking is her relationship with a man she terms Stroller in the memoir. Stroller, who vacillates between “I love you” and “I no longer believe in the power of adult love to endure,” keeps Browning enthralled for years in a sometimes on, sometimes off romantic entanglement, all the while living with a wife from which he claims to be “legally separated.”

I found myself re-reading the sections of the book that detailed Browning’s interactions with Stroller, and found myself playing a sort of parlor game, guessing as to why she stayed with him for so long.

Here’s my final answer: As a magazine editor, Browning was too busy to sustain any sort of relationship, so her occasional lunches and weekend assignations with Stroller fit nicely into her hectic schedule. Once she lost her job and began to re-assess her life, she concluded that continuing to carry on with someone “only available on a contingent basis,” who refused to marry her — or worse, allow her to start a garden at his country home — was no longer something she wanted from an emotional standpoint.

Considering their relationship makes these lines in the acknowledgments section of the book most curious: “Many thanks to Stroller for reading this manuscript with care and concern and for taking the time to comb through the pages, pointing out distortion and delight alike.” Most curious indeed. That sentence, to me, calls into question exactly how finished Browning’s relationship with Stroller really is.

My takeaway from “Slow Love” is how the economic downturn affects everyone at all socioeconomic levels, but the level of privilege present in one’s life certainly has an effect on how one copes with employment adversity.

Also the book reminds me that cooking is therapeutic — but anyone who’s watched the Food Network for more than five minutes knows this already. Also, don’t get involved with unavailable men.

A version of this article appeared in the Jul 29 issue of the Collegiate Times.