Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
It was so cold and windy today that when I went downtown to check the mail for Wild Violet, I wrapped my scarf around the bottom half of my face.
I was trying to protect my precious schnoz in case, in my newfound fame, a plastic surgeon should leap from the bushes and make off with it.
The scarf had an unintended affect on people.
To explain, my scarf is black on one side and green on the other, and I happened to have the black side out. Between that and my snow boots, my black bag and black pea jacket, I suppose I could have looked like somebody with a mysterious mission.
But while authorities seemed to view me as a potential threat, others did a double take, staring at me as if they thought they might be seeing someone famous in disguise. A woman's head zipped around as she tried to figure out who she was seeing. Another guy actually followed me into a sandwich shop until I took off my scarf. Then he promptly turned on his foot and left.
I have to admit savoring the attention. It made me wonder what it's like to truly be famous and have a face so recognizable you have to play tricks to go out in public.
Of course, sometimes disguises only make you more noticeable.
When Kevin Smith was filming "Jersey Girl" in the Philadelphia area, I could swear I saw J. Lo coming out of a party supplies store in the suburbs. She was getting into a rented Mercedes Benz (which had a dealer tag on it), and the furtive way she glanced at me made me think she was frightened of something.
Perhaps she's had problems before with rabid fans jumping on her and slavering, spreading the disease of their ordinariness. Or maybe she's afraid that a plastic surgeon will jump her and give her emergency liposuction, ruining her most marketable feature.
And yes, I'm talking about her personality. You're not allowed to have one in Hollywood, you know.
The woman was wearing an obvious wig; it was too pouffy to be real. Then again, remembering her bouffant hair at the 2002 Oscars, maybe it was her real hair. She was wearing really large sunglasses, the kind that hide half your face. And before I could get a really good look, she was gone.
I find myself wondering who I was mistaken for. Was it Renee Zellweger, Reese Witherspoon, or somebody less famous? Like an Internet muser with a certain amount of Net fame?
Moral:
Protect your nose. It might even make you more mysterious.
Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson
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