Good morning, Wednesday. The office i'm in is playing "Ruby Tuesday" so they're a day behind, but I feel like I am a day or two ahead. I've been sick since the weekend and my voice sounds like Harvey Fierstein being choked to death, and my cough is deep and chest heavy and altogether messy. But I can't stop what I'm doing because duty calls (ain't it a bitch) and I'm deep in the bowels of my very own Private Idaho of production hell. As I struggled to get dressed this morning and doubled up on the concealer, I felt scrambled and tired and desperate to be done with this shoot, which I'm sure will be fabulous but right now is kicking my ass beyond belief.
I made it into the city and popped by Dean & Deluca, and there she was- SJP, aka Carrie Bradshaw in huge black shades sampling peaches while the rest of us plebes shuffled along to get our morning lattes and get to work. I'm sure like me you've wondered what it would be like to be someone like Sarah Jessica- skinny, rich, all the top designer clothes and shoes you could ever want, adorable children, possibly gay husband, rich (did I say rich?). Well guess what? This morning as the soupy weather enveloped the city while I stood in line for my overpriced coffee, I no longer felt envious. Because when I'm feeling blue or pissed off or stressed, I don't have to worry about everyone and their mother staring at me as I select produce. And like many females who spent their 20s and 30s in Manhattan, I've often very much related to Carrie, (the character she played and who will always precede her), or at least wanted her life- the column, the shoes, the couture, the rye take on relationships and life. But as I watched Ms. Parker be gawked at like a zoo animal by a sea of tourists (the types who very much take pictures in front of Magnolia Bakery because of its appearance in the show in which she starred), she just seemed so normal and so very small, and I had no idea how she could stand being looked at in that way, even though she just wanted to keep a low profile in her jeans, tee shirt, and enormous grandpa sweater and taste the peaches.
And I suppose that's my point- we all pay a price to taste the peaches. For me, if I want to keep buying shit at Dean and Deluca, I have to go to work- I have to gussy up, play the game, and play the part. For a mega celebrity like Sarah Jessica Parker, she too pays a price for playing such famous parts- she's stared at and scrutinized and all she wants to do is do something normal and wear clothes and glasses that don't get her noticed- maybe she even envies a poor ad trogladyte like me, who although can't afford to be sick and stresses over what to wear, I at least get to get my morning coffee and fruit in peace. Who knows- with everything comes a price, but I know one thing- whether you're a superstar or a working stiff, you still have to stop and taste those peaches. Otherwise, what's the point? I still would take Ms. Parker's shoe collection- peaceful produce shopping or not. Keep calm and Carrie on indeed.
And that's what's up this star spotted and yummy Wednesday in the 212. XO