I’m sitting in a cafe writing on a legal pad, when I notice a well-heeled woman staring at me from across the room.
Do I know her from somewhere, I wonder, my memory lately doing the hula.
She starts walking over.
An attractive woman, in her 50s, with jet black hair in a sprayed flip, cascading over a little too much cleavage for 4 in the afternoon. I can’t see what she’s wearing beneath what looks like, a full length beaver coat. I do notice she has on Tod loafers that gleam in the pre-evening light.
“Excuse me,” she says, genuinely apologetic for disturbing me. “I really need to ask you something.”
My essay light pops on as I smile and say, “We haven’t met before, right?”
“No,” she says, looking around like Mata Hari. “I have to go to a party and we’re all supposed to come as someone famous. After seeing you come in, I thought I could go as Audrey.”
I’m speechless, because the whole thing is a bit bizarre, even for me, plus the last person she resembles is Audrey Hepburn.
“Tell me where to go get what you’re wearing,” she says, now sitting across from me.
“Well, I’m only wearing tights and a turtleneck, and flats. Certainly you must have them in your closet.”
This woman looks as if she has 40 closets. You can tell. Her coat alone could pay my rent for a year.
“I don’t. I never wear black for starters. Too funereal. And my butt is just too big for leotards.”
“Then, maybe Audrey is not the best choice,” I say tactfully, ignoring the funeral remark. “Why not go as Marilyn, or how bout Ava. You could pull off a great Ava Gardner.”
Now I’m into it, her new costume ball fashion consultant.
She thinks about this for a second. “I could get my guy to do my hair like hers. Could bring him a picture.”
“Yeah, and you can go to Sephora maybe and get your make-up done, like a 40’s siren.”
“What else do you know?”
That she always wore tight, tight pants, like all the matadors she slept with.”
“Yeah, she was a very sexy lady. She was married to Sinatra remember.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot that.”
After Adrianne and I decide her 20 ply white cashmere Oscar de La Renta sweater will be perfect with skinny leopard pants and hot pink mules, she thanks me, kisses me, then…
picks up my check.
Only in New York folks.