Fine. I am loyal to my hot hair man, who's straight, and always teases me with things like, "Oh man chels, if I didn't have a girlfriend....You're totally a little hottie..." etc. etc.accompanied by sweet nothings, and then by the end of our hair cutting session, he manages to completely turn me off by asking me the same question- 7 times, showing that the first 6 answers I gave he clearly wasn't listening to, and then manages to throw in random musings about how he wished disco was still around cause "Everyone was on coke, and happy and just SEXXXY..." Yeah. Sexy.
Though I've stuck around for years of these sessions, today I was in dire need- I was hired for a job based off of a picture in which my hair was shoulder length. Now, my hair had gotten to ridiculous hippie length, flowing to the middle of my back, and severly in need of a brush and some detangler.
So here I am face to face with my new stylist- Marilyn. Marilyn is 65. Marilyn is from Oklahoma. Marilyn is nice. Marilyn is definitly going to give me a "Steel Magnolias" haircut. Fuck.
Surprisingly, Marilyn didn't suck. And I think her day at "the only salon that was open" was so slow, that she confessed to me she told everyone back in OK, that she liked L.A. because she wanted to be "Polite.".....
Well Marilyn...You have found yourself in the wrong city.
"Can you tell them to go fuck themselves??? No really man, you just say- HEY, go fuck yourself, and then you're outta the contract...."
It's amazing that no matter how interesting the book you're reading is, hearing someone say the word fuck immediatly grabs your attention.
This was the gaffer speaking to a business partner, or, some other 30-something TV production type, who clearly smokes pot, has been wearing the same black T-shirt for eight years, and is oblivious to his binge eating disorder, due to years of working on sets with incredible Craft Services.
Marilyn's concern for politeness came to mind and I imagined her in some rural town in Oklahoma saying to her boss, "Hey Jim, um...go fuck yourself." In her sweet mid-western way...
Can you imagine if this is how we did business in any other place other than L.A.? Polite is an urban legend in this place. It's like a foreign word...
Kind of like the word, red- is to me.
"We're gonna need you to bring a red outfit"
I was already worried about my hair cut, until he said the word RED, which rang like the plague in my ear. I happen to loathe the color red, but at 7am I was to arrive on set with a red outfit.
After rummaging through my closet, I found a red track jacket that i've had since I was 15 and said uninspiringly- "It'll do." They're not paying me enough for me to buy anything, horrificly red, so, red track jacket it is.
"Stand-In" could also be described as; living prop.
While the "starlett" sits, because her life is so gruelingly strenuous- afterall, they do make her say the word "Excluuusive" 600 different ways, while introducing people on the red carpet- it's really hard work- she rests her tiresome Marc Jacobs clad toes, sits in some red gown, by a designer that's hard to pronounce, and I stand in front of her in my red Abercrombie track jacket, while the producers comment on the shadows of green that are reflecting off my face.
She eyes me like a hawk, clearly thinking we look nothing alike. She's skinnier- more botoxed- more fabulous-etc. And I think- damn, that was nice of them- i'm obviously a solid 20 years younger than her.
Stars are weird.
The two stars today were former "Dancing with the Stars" contestants, which is why they're stars now- cause no one can remember what they were in before. It's amazing how they can turn their fun-loving, "magnetic" personalities on and off like a switch.
An eager reporter corners- BLANK- with a camera and a notepad, she asks shallow questions and BLANK turns on her "charming" ways elaborating on why such and such is sooo fantastic, and the reporter smiles and nods, eagerly licking up every drop of this oozy, imitation star, giving her that face that says, "Gimme gimme more, great, good, yes, you're perfect, those words are like candy to my ears." BLANK teeters (i'm guessing from exhaustion?) on her ridiculous high shoes and cuts the interview short. Brief. Consise. Vague Answers. Good luck conjuring up a story with that one, smiley reporter lady.
At the end of the day, you really are just a "stand-in" for their lives, which isn't always a bad thing....because when you're cut, you get to go back to your charming REAL life and cozy up in clothes from highschool with a bowl of cereal and an extra 150 bucks. Being normal doesn't suck.