Love, Take Two

Most people think finding the spotlight means chasing it. Lori E. Seid spent 40 years actively avoiding it, and somehow ended up more essential to New York's downtown arts scene than almost anyone with their name on the marquee. In this episode of Love, Take Two, Lori takes us through the version of a career nobody plans for on purpose: starting out at a copy shop on West 8th Street making posters for broke, brilliant artists, and just never leaving. What followed was four decades of being the person everyone in the room trusted, road managing Sophie B. Hawkins before she'd released a single song, producing for Rosie O'Donnell's talk show, and turning down Blue Man Group's first millions because eight shows a week just wasn't her cup of tea. She talks candidly about coming of age as a baby dyke on Long Island in the 1970s, getting shipped off to Provincetown after her parents read her diary, and how the queer community there effectively raised her. She gets into the AIDS crisis with unflinching honesty, the lesbian safe sex handbooks she helped smuggle across borders, and the friends she lost who never got the chance to have a Take Two at all. Lori gets into what it actually took to finally step into her own spotlight, at an age when most people are told it's too late to start. No rebrand, no reinvention plan. Just a lifetime of material sitting in her tiny, forty-year apartment, and a night on stage that turned into the performance of her life. She opens up about the moment Cyndi Lauper stopped a nervous young singer mid-performance to tell her she belonged there, and how that memory cracked something open in Lori on the subway ride home. For Lori, this chapter isn't about becoming someone new. It's about finally telling the stories she's been collecting, on purpose, her whole life. This is a conversation about loyalty, timing, and what happens when the person who spent decades making everyone else look good finally decides it's her turn. Key Takeaways How a copy shop job on West 8th Street turned into a 40 year career working alongside Rosie O'Donnell, Cyndi Lauper, and Sophie Hawkins Why she turned down Blue Man Group's early success, and how she felt about it later What coming out on Long Island in the 1970s and being taken in by Provincetown's queer community taught her about survival The lesbian safe sex handbooks she helped create and distribute during the AIDS crisis, and the friends she lost Why she waited until now, decades into her career, to finally step into her own spotlight If this episode resonated, send it to someone who's still waiting for the "right time" to tell their own story. Sometimes forty years of being everyone else's biggest supporter is exactly what gets you ready. Come hang out with us on social.

Most people think reinvention has to be a leap into the unknown. Anthony Luciano found his by doing the opposite. He just followed the current. In this episode of Love, Take Two, Anthony takes us through the version of success nobody puts on a mood board: getting fired three times from fashion jobs in his twenties, stitching costumes in the belly of a cruise ship for five years, and finally walking away from a design director job with no plan except to start making bags in his apartment the next morning. What followed was two decades of hand building a luxury handbag business from scratch. He landed in Bergdorf's and Neiman Marcus, all before the industry itself pulled the floor out from under him. He talks about watching retail collapse around him well before the pandemic finished the job, and the moment he realized he would rather close his own business than go work for someone else again. Anthony gets into what it actually took to rebuild, without treating it like a rebuild at all. No dramatic pivot, no five year plan. Just workshops in his studio one night a week that a Today Show segment turned into Sip and Stitch, the leather and wine experience that's now filled with strangers, celebrities, and his own extended family of regulars. He opens up about growing up the son of a carpenter and a homemaker in a small upstate New York town, watching his mother and grandmother sew and embroider by hand, and the tradition his late father kept alive for him: collecting pennies from the whole town so Anthony could put one into every bag he ever made, for luck. For Anthony, turning 60 didn't feel like an ending. It felt like proof that you don't have to fight your way upstream to end up exactly where you're supposed to be. This is a conversation about freedom, patience, and what happens when you stop treating a second act like it has to be a reinvention at all. Key Takeaways How getting fired three times in the fashion industry became the redirection that mattered most What five years of costuming cruise ships taught him about freedom over security The Today Show segment that turned a one night a week workshop into a full business overnight The penny his father collected from an entire town, and why every bag still carries one Why he believes the best second act isn't a leap. It's following the current you're already in If this episode resonated, send it to someone who needs a reminder that reinvention doesn't have to look like a comeback. Sometimes it just looks like paying attention to where you're already headed. Come hang out with us on social.

John Friia spent his twenties chasing the on camera career local news kept telling him to leave New York to find, until the pandemic handed him a strange kind of shortcut. Laid off from the newsroom grind and stuck inside with nowhere to go, he started walking around the city filming the history hiding in plain sight, and Here in New York was born almost by accident. In this episode of Love, Take Two, John talks about growing up shy on Long Island, always sensing he was different, and slowly becoming the extroverted, unbothered version of himself that his younger self would not even recognize. He gets into the reporting career that came before the fame, the managing director who told him he would need to leave the New York market to ever make it in New York, and the moment he realized his path forward looked nothing like the one he had been taught to expect. But the real Take Two of this conversation is not professional. After a long relationship ended, John found himself living completely alone for the first time in his life, and he talks candidly about what it took to sign a lease with no guarantor, build an apartment around only his own needs, and start dating with the strange, uncomfortable task of figuring out what he actually wants instead of what keeps the peace. He also shares the wisdom of his 103 year old great aunt, who told him never to hold a grudge, and what it has meant to finally put himself first after a lifetime of being a people pleaser. This is a conversation about the quiet, unglamorous work of becoming your own priority, and what happens when you finally stop performing for everyone else's comfort. Key Takeaways How a pandemic layoff and a habit of walking around New York turned into the Here in New York account Why he left local news instead of following the traditional path to on camera work What it meant to live completely alone for the first time at 31, after a lifetime of never being on his own The lesson his 103 year old great aunt taught him about grudges, and why he has chosen to let go instead of hold on How John is learning to put himself first after years of being a people pleaser If this episode resonated, send it to someone who is learning what it looks like to finally choose themselves, and come hang out with us on social.

Jordy signs his own name to gay love without hedging on it, and that has been the whole point since his breakout song "Long Distance" turned a pandemic era hookup into an anthem people from every kind of relationship saw themselves in. In this episode of Love, Take Two, Jordy walks us through what he calls his Take One: a childhood shaped by bullying, a middle child's craving for attention, and years spent chasing boys who treated him badly because their approval felt like the only kind worth having. He talks about leaving his college boyfriend behind to chase music in LA, the anxious attachment style that followed him into every relationship after, and how that pattern showed up again on his new single "Sick," a song about mistaking intensity for love. He gets honest about texting compulsively, needing constant reassurance just to get through a day, and how therapy slowly untangled where all of that actually came from. Now 31, single, and living alone by choice, Jordy talks about what changed. He no longer chases the high of somebody playing hard to get. He has stopped confusing how someone makes him feel with who they actually are. And he has learned that the quiet, uneventful kind of love, the kind that does not come with a chase, might be the whole point he was writing toward all along. This is a conversation about growing out of a pattern instead of just naming it, and what it looks like to finally choose peace over passion. Key Takeaways How years of chasing approval from boys who mistreated him shaped Jordy's early relationships and his anxious attachment style The real story behind "Long Distance," the song that became an unexpected pandemic anthem What "Sick" is really about, and how Jordy learned to spot the difference between intensity and love Why he no longer confuses how someone makes him feel with who they actually are What being single and happy at 31 taught him about validation and self worth If this episode resonated, send it to someone who is learning the difference between chasing a feeling and choosing a person, and come hang out with us on social.

Most people wait for the world to tell them they're ready. Jeff Hiller waited for himself, for over twenty years, while everyone else assumed he already knew when to quit. In this episode of Love, Take Two, Jeff takes us back through the decades before the breakthrough, temping between auditions, teaching improv for free, and telling himself the work still counted even when no one else could see it. His resume now includes an Emmy win for Somebody Somewhere, a second Emmy nomination this year, and a memoir about the twenty-year road it took to get there. None of it came easily, and none of it came on schedule. Jeff gets into what it actually felt like to turn 40 with a career that hadn't landed yet, the shame he carried about still chasing it, and the moment that finally convinced him the sequel really can be better than the original. He also opens up about his upbringing in a conservative religious household, the parents whose love became the thing that got him through it, and how faith and queerness never felt like a contradiction to him, no matter how loudly other people insisted they should. For Jeff, success was never about the timeline. It was about refusing to let embarrassment talk him out of the thing he loved. This is a conversation about patience, self-worth, and what it means to let your own definition of success be the only one that counts. Key Takeaways How Jeff went from social work to two decades of scraping by as a working actor and improv teacher What it took to keep believing in the work even when the world called it embarrassing The role that finally broke through at 45, and what it felt like to be seen after decades of being overlooked How his faith and his queerness coexist without contradiction, and what that took to arrive at Why he believes success was never about hitting a deadline If this episode resonated, send it to someone who needs a reminder that it is never too late to become who you are, and come hang out with us on social.