You’re Nobody ’til somebody [important] loves you
I don’t even know why you’re reading this. If you were like anyone else I’d met this weekend you’d have already laughed derisively and moved on to the New York Post Page Six site as soon as you’d realized I’m not a trust fund baby and I’m not engaged to a multi-millionaire real estate developer. Honestly, it’s a good thing my ego doesn’t bruise easily or else mine would be black and blue after the kind of treatment I received this past weekend.
Friday night was the opening night of the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival, the longest film festival in the world. This superlative obviously was enough to bring in a few important people, because when Hilary, Adriana and I walked up to the Parker Playhouse after parking in a dirt lot across the street there were all sorts of ridiculously expensive cars parked in front and even more queued up for valet service. We had got all dressed up and it was fun seeing other people decked out like they were somebody special. I saw some guy with a camera snapping photos as people walked through the front door and so, jokingly, I asked him if he wanted a picture of the three of us. He asked if I was somebody important and I kind of laughed because I thought he was teasing. I’d seen the people he had snapped before we walked up and they didn’t look like anybody special, just middle-aged people in expensive-looking but not very stylish clothes, and we were young and dressed really nice…surely he was kidding. Nope. Perhaps if we’d valeted they would have realized who they were reckoning with; it’s all in the entrance.
The opening film for the festival was Volver, a Spanish film directed by Pedro Almodovar, but before it was shown they played a short film by some has-been actor who used to be on Beverly Hills 90210. The short film was quite funny, but that guy, Ian so-and-so, was absolutely awful! He is such a crap actor! Before Volver was shown (which was awesome), he was there to give a little speech and wave his hand. I felt a little embarrassed for him, to be honest. Especially later on when I saw him standing around at the buffet at the after party waiting for the popcorn shrimp to be refilled.
After the film premiere I no longer suffered from any delusions that someday I might appear on Fort Lauderdale’s society pages in the local papers, but in case I had any doubt that I am in fact a nobody, that was cleared up on Sunday. I was out looking for bits and pieces to put together a Halloween costume when I found this neat little shopping center with an absolutely beautiful vintage store that I fell in love with and several other really unique boutiques. I was enjoying being able to walk to different stores at once rather than having to get in my car and take my life in my hands trying to get to several places, so I walked along until I saw a clothing store that looked interesting.
When I went to pull the door open, it was locked. The sign said it was open, so I rang the bell. A woman with a little dog opened the door and asked if she could help me. Umm…who says that? It’s a store…it’s a place where people go to buy clothes…what did she think I wanted to do? I’m a bit old for selling Girl Scout cookies and I didn’t have a basket of roses or a bundle of newspapers in a wagon to make her think I was a street hawker. I’m sure I probably looked a bit confused when I said that I wanted to come in and look around. She kind of looked me over and asked if I had an appointment, and that the store was a personal shopping store that didn’t normally allow browsing. She then went on to say that they “dress” celebrities and that they’re just rather “picky” about who they let in, but that if I wanted to I could come in and take a look. Oh gee whiz, can I really? I eyeballed her rather shabby attire, gave her a dirty look and told her thanks, but no.
What is with the people down here? I expected a certain degree of superficiality and elitism, but I thought that would be limited to golf course memberships and yachting clubs! I can’t stand the idea of it…elite social circles that you can only get into if you make X amount of money, drive one of only three cars available in the country and have spent your husband’s fortune in an attempt to defy biology and get a body that Nicole Richie would envy. The idea is disgusting! If I were to wake up a billionaire tomorrow they could keep it…their photo ops and their Jimmy Star clothes. (And FYI, if there’s anyone who needs plastic surgery, it’s dear old Jimmy. And his clothes are ugly too. I’m not bitter, though.)
Tags: cars, Florida, Fort Lauderdale, Germany, London, Slovakia, Travel
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