Cameras flash at Madame Tussauds – faux celebrities are almost the real thing, right?
Pass by Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, compare your footprints with them – celebrities who walked on the air of fame past and present. How do your hands compare against theirs? How do your feet? If they match, is your joy because you are almost like them or that you see that they are more like us – who exist on the fringe of red carpets and lit ceremony?
Walk on the Walk of Fame pavement – remember the crowd that gathered in droves to see Michael Jackson’s star, laying to rest a fountain of flowers and gifts, mementos and memory. See it today: one woman, feet perched on the star, one camera to capture a memory far from the moment you remember before.
How did time move forward so quickly?
A car is stopped at the light between Hollywood Boulevard and Orange, a large dark SUV. Two blondes sit in the front, an unknown number of passengers in the back. The blonde on the passenger side has a row of dark tattoo lettering bright across her arm; she talks to a group on the street as if she knows them.
Maybe she does? Maybe they do.
She asks about something on one of their shirts, approving of the logo, the expression, the phrasing… Whatever it is, does it matter? Sometimes approval is all you need in this town.
Earlier, on the same street, a stretch limo drove by. Think bigger. Hummer H2 with an open back, as if it were taking its passengers on safari – into the wilds of Hollywood people-watching armed with bottle service and disco lights.
A young woman walks down Orange dressed in a purple ball gown complete with hooped skirt. Remember Donna in 90210, the prom episode? Except not that awkward. Her entourage follows her tiara-crowned figure in jeans and t-shirts. Her mother is among her people. Is she wondering “where did my little girl go?” or “can it be tomorrow yet?”
And I sit in the corner coffee shop, not studying.