This celebrity behaviour started a long time ago, I think it is somehow related to one of two things: I'm either out of touch with reality so badly that I think they would actually want to talk to a stranger, or the one I prefer, that my reality is they are just human, like me and so why wouldn't they chat to someone friendly with a big smile???!!!! (I think the words "like me" are what's wrong with my justification)
Yet it is what it is and no amount of working out 'why' is going to stop me it seems. The following is the story of my first celebrity intercept, yes this is where all the craziness started, and how I have times be labelled, wrongly I might add, as a stalker (thank you Joe Hildebrand!).
It all started back in the year 2000, I was heading to a gala evening celebrating the lighting of the Opera House for the first time, this was the father of VIVID. A man I had admired due mainly to his creation of quite a few biomorphic metal objects, was going to be there as he had designed the lighting. And as I had designed the event identity nothing was going to stop me from talking to this gorgeous fellow designer, marc newson. Think gluon, orgone or as I did at the time, embryo...
I think he was wearing orange - can't believe I remember that, I think he was single too. I unfortunately had my then boyfriend there with me, but this was a minor moral bump that I happily skipped over as I approached my idol. "I loved him way before I'd even met my boyfriend" I rationalised.
I started quite normally explaining my bower-bird-like attraction to his bright shiny objects (we're talking furnishings at this point people) and that I had designed the identity on the flags all over Circular Quay with his 'neon' signature within it. Which he did confirm was a designed identity rather than the real thing, "Oh yeah of course", like I knew that, arggh, it was going well...not.
Just when it looked like I had escaped an awkward moment, out of the blue and with little context I blurt out "So are you making any money yet?". This does cause him pause, I suddenly see myself through his still, wide eyes and time slows as his thoughts form in a bubble above his head "wow, gold-digging and proud of it, interesting", his turn to spin a little white lie, "a little yes..."
Mortified by now I try to start explaining at high speed, "Sorry, no, it's just that I watched a documentary a few years ago and you said there was no money in Industrial design and I studied Industrial design but have never practised it because yes there seems to be no money in it, nor any jobs and of course I'm not as talented as you and I was just interested because I only earn..." and on I went, I can't even remember the rest as it blurred into pure desperation transformed into lots and lots of words.
By now he was smiling, amused by my lack of filter, I can only presume, or maybe impressed by my ability to verbosely back pedal, seemingly make logical sense at the same time as flirting. Our conversation was just levelling out and he was kinda getting friendly, he even complimented some brightly coloured thing I was wearing. Well that's what I was telling myself, when my boyfriend wandered over. Celebrity intercept almost turning into groupie evening foiled, damn. I did the polite thing and introduced them and in true rock star celebrity-style Marc moved pragmatically on. Let's face it there were probably ten of me at every event he went to, and the other nine were quite possibly a lot cooler, inconceivable!?
The celebrity lesson here? No it's not "don't ask celebrities how much money they make", and it's definitely not "leave them alone you groupie weirdo", I'm sure he was at least entertained. It is without a doubt - if you are going out with someone and you realise you want to go home with Marc Newson instead, chances are you're with the wrong guy. We broke up soon after, but unfortunately not as a result of me running off and living in London on a Lockheed Lounge. Damn!
Fortunately for you there are more stories like this to come - so stay tuned and if you follow my tips I'm guessing you may learn from my mistakes and end of bagging Prince Harry or something... but probably not if you have a couple of kids and are married... we can just dream.
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| Would you say no to this look? It was 14 years ago but I'm sure I recognise it... |
It all started back in the year 2000, I was heading to a gala evening celebrating the lighting of the Opera House for the first time, this was the father of VIVID. A man I had admired due mainly to his creation of quite a few biomorphic metal objects, was going to be there as he had designed the lighting. And as I had designed the event identity nothing was going to stop me from talking to this gorgeous fellow designer, marc newson. Think gluon, orgone or as I did at the time, embryo...
I think he was wearing orange - can't believe I remember that, I think he was single too. I unfortunately had my then boyfriend there with me, but this was a minor moral bump that I happily skipped over as I approached my idol. "I loved him way before I'd even met my boyfriend" I rationalised.
I started quite normally explaining my bower-bird-like attraction to his bright shiny objects (we're talking furnishings at this point people) and that I had designed the identity on the flags all over Circular Quay with his 'neon' signature within it. Which he did confirm was a designed identity rather than the real thing, "Oh yeah of course", like I knew that, arggh, it was going well...not.
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| Just in case you thought this was a work of fiction. |
Mortified by now I try to start explaining at high speed, "Sorry, no, it's just that I watched a documentary a few years ago and you said there was no money in Industrial design and I studied Industrial design but have never practised it because yes there seems to be no money in it, nor any jobs and of course I'm not as talented as you and I was just interested because I only earn..." and on I went, I can't even remember the rest as it blurred into pure desperation transformed into lots and lots of words.
By now he was smiling, amused by my lack of filter, I can only presume, or maybe impressed by my ability to verbosely back pedal, seemingly make logical sense at the same time as flirting. Our conversation was just levelling out and he was kinda getting friendly, he even complimented some brightly coloured thing I was wearing. Well that's what I was telling myself, when my boyfriend wandered over. Celebrity intercept almost turning into groupie evening foiled, damn. I did the polite thing and introduced them and in true rock star celebrity-style Marc moved pragmatically on. Let's face it there were probably ten of me at every event he went to, and the other nine were quite possibly a lot cooler, inconceivable!?
The celebrity lesson here? No it's not "don't ask celebrities how much money they make", and it's definitely not "leave them alone you groupie weirdo", I'm sure he was at least entertained. It is without a doubt - if you are going out with someone and you realise you want to go home with Marc Newson instead, chances are you're with the wrong guy. We broke up soon after, but unfortunately not as a result of me running off and living in London on a Lockheed Lounge. Damn!
Fortunately for you there are more stories like this to come - so stay tuned and if you follow my tips I'm guessing you may learn from my mistakes and end of bagging Prince Harry or something... but probably not if you have a couple of kids and are married... we can just dream.
