Up & Out - Ariella Papa [52]
“What is so obvious to TV watchers is often derived by TV makers only after a series of focus groups and meetings. No one can ever just accept a good thing. When a program is doing well there is this constant need for tweaking. God! I hate my job.”
“Do you know what you need?”
“Rock shrimp tempura.”
“Rebecca!”
“To get sloshed.”
“No, a trip to everyone’s favorite optical store.”
The secret of people who work in TV is that the majority want to work in film. One of the geekiest things Tommy and I ever used to do back when things were good between us was to film-parody different conversations we would have. For example he would ask me what we should have for dinner and I would say, “spaghetti western,” and then he would have to reask in a certain way.
I might be telling a story about work or something and he’d say, “But how would you direct that like a film noir?” Sometimes I try to imagine my life as a movie and recast certain aspects of it in different genres. It was a lot easier to do when I had more free time.
If ever I get the chance to direct a big-budget Technicolor musical, I am going to shoot one scene of the heroine (because all my protagonists will be women) shopping for glasses in Selima. In fact, the chorus of dancing salespeople and customers who glide around on glass cases and giant optical instruments will do jazz hands and shout “Selima!”
Kathy’s motives for inviting me aren’t as selfless as I originally thought. She is picking up the special mother-of-pearl glasses with yellow accents that she ordered to go with her wedding dress. They look great on her, but after I oohed and aahed about how beautiful she will look with the glasses complementing her dress and bouquet of yellow flowers, I figured it was my turn.
Although Kathy is a CPA she really should be a personal shopper. The bespectacled salespeople at Selima are quite helpful, but they don’t stand a chance against Kathy. You’ve barely adjusted the earpiece when she is declaring, “no,” “maybe” or “fabulous.” She is very sure of herself and of what looks good on her friends. We travel around the cases, followed by the admiring salesperson, and Kathy has me try on various glasses until she is satisfied.
Even though I got a new pair of glasses—black Martine Sitbons that Tommy enjoys ridiculing—last year, Kathy has determined that buying another pair—a funkier pair—is just what the eye doctor ordered to improve my spirits.
We narrow it down to four pairs. I really like a pair of brown glasses that are sort of square. Kathy is having a real quandary over a pair of thick turquoise-and-brown glasses and a red pair. There are also the titanium frames that the salesperson suggested that I take just to appease her.
Kathy has me try the titanium ones first and then shoos them away with a swipe of her hand.
“I don’t know, Kathy, I think these are the way to go,” I say, holding up my favorites. I look at the salesperson, who shrugs, afraid to speak unless spoken to by Kathy. Kathy looks at me for a long time.
“I just don’t know if they suit the shape of your face.” No one has ever spoken so earnestly about glasses before. Then Kathy closes her eyes as if channeling a spirit. “I’m seeing you in a long camel coat with an ecru cashmere turtleneck peeking out. Yes, I like what I see, but it’s very conservative, very winter. It’s summer now, Rebecca. It’s hot, you’re hot. Try the turquoise.”
I try them. I look in the mirror. They are really nice, but it’s a lot of glasses.
“I’m not sure, Kathy. I like them. They seem like a little too much glasses.” She closes her eyes, as if wounded. She takes this shit seriously. I see the salesperson shake her head.
“I just mean that they are a little thick.” She opens her eyes and nods, giving in a little.
“Okay, if you don’t like them, that’s valid. I’ll defer to you on that.” I appreciate the small victory. “But, I think they look hot. Try the red.”
I try the red. I look at Kathy. Kathy smiles and nods. I look at the salesperson, she agrees with a nod, cocking her