My September Issue

I went to the theater alone last night. When I lived in Arizona and in my younger years I never could have fathomed sitting in a dark room full of strangers all by my lonesome. The movies were for friends and dates after all. But living in Los Angeles shifted me from my constant companionship with the array of friends I'd gathered serving tables over the years and into the unfamiliar arms of solitude. At first I knew no one in this strange town so going to coffee shops, museums, even dinner by myself was kind of forced upon me. But even when I made friends and had options, there were still nights I spent solo. Finally one day I found myself with an afternoon in the middle of the week and I took the leap of ultimate solitariness and saw a movie alone.

Guess what? Every single other person in the barely filled theater was there by themselves too. And I realized in a sprawling metropolis like LA it was pretty impossible to care about something silly like not having a friend on your arm at the theater. Since that day there's been countless shows I've seen by myself. So when K told me he'd be working late I thought I'd go see something I couldn't imagine dragging him to.

The September Issue is a behind the scene documentary of the super exclusive, utterly elitist world of Vogue. Specifically, it is a glimpse at the Ice Queen herself, Anna Wintour Editor-in-Chief. You may not know her by name but if you ever saw "The Devil Wears Prada", this is the bitch that movie was loosely based on.

I don't follow fashion, admittedly I can be a bit of couture retard. And I think it's embarrassing and ostentatious to carry big showy bags or discuss designers you're wearing. But I am a sucker for seeing how closely life imitates art and so I was compelled to find out if Meryl Streep did Anna right.

I won't go into the details of the show because frankly if you're interested, you'll see it for yourself and likely most people won't be interested. But as I sat in the dimly lit room waiting for the movie to begin I found myself having the strangest of experiences.

At the theater I went to you choose your seat when you buy the ticket and I chose one of the last seats open which happened to be sandwiched between other crammed spots. So basically I would be sitting shoulder to shoulder with strangers. No big.

I bought a huge plastic tub of caramel corn and headed into the theater. As I rounded the corner and ascended the stairs I saw that almost every seat was full but I didn't take in just yet just who was occupying the seats. I took my spot on aisle M. There were two girls on my right and two guys on my left. As soon as I plopped down in the seat I noticed the boots the girl beside me was wearing. They were brown suede and knee length and beautiful and so I said, "Wow. I love your boots." I kept admiring them as she completely ignored me. So I said again louder, "Your boots are great." She stopped talking to her friend, looked at me, looked at my vat of caramel corn, looked back at me and with a barely there smile said, "Thanks." And then returned to her conversation.

I was barely fazed by it. Barely.

As I sat there waiting for the movie to begin I watched the train of people enter the theater and take their seats. And I slowly realized this movie was a beacon for the gay and fashion-y. In retrospect it seems obvious that it would be, but as I sat there with the bitch sisters on my right and the homosexual Joan and Melissa Rivers on my left I suddenly felt like a high school outcast. I think my friendless year at private school really left some scars because here I am a twenty eight year old woman who really kind of loves who she has become and suddenly I was reduced to a socially retarded sixteen year old. Maybe it was because that girl I tried to compliment acted like I asked for a kidney or it might have been because the queens had something nasty to say about every single person who walked into the room- but I felt kind of... dare I say... intimidated, for just a minute at least.

What am I doing? I'm not a fashionista. I shop at Marshall's and shoe warehouses that leave everyone feeling a lot like cattle (in pretty heels of course). I don't know anything about couture except how to pronounce it. Oh and I'm about to eat a family sized container of caramel corn. Do you see how this might bring out my inner Carnie Wilson?

I guess what really struck me about this moment and this emotion was that even when I think I've reached the pinnacle of self-lovin I see that these good feelings actually exist on a pendulum- a swing that can be swung back towards geeky, too tall, flat-chested self-consciousville.

In all honesty the moment was pretty fleeting and I all but forgot about it when the lights went down but it left me with a lingering question... do we all have an insecure skeleton in the closet?

Comments

  1. Funny conversation we're having via text while I read this blog,ironic. Yes, everyone does, that's why people judge because on some level it helps to make themselves feel better. Although, adversely all it does is ingrain the concept that all others are equally judgemental towards you, and thus the vicious cycle goes on and on.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular Posts