Listening to the Ditty Bops. If you haven't heard them, check them out (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DRKzqISgrs). It's good, folksy, chick music with this sort of Parisienne underbelly - think Feist meets The Triplets of Belleville. I take that back...don't think. Just listen.
I've been having a devil of a time with this blog post, but a WONDERFULLY supportive reader (you know who you are!) suggested I just go with my gut. So I have a scotch in one hand to lubricate the gut spillage, and a cigarette in the other out of mere habit...divine! This seems simpler already.
There's a wicked Ani Difranco quote that has seemed quite appropriate this week: Art imitates life. But life imitates TV.
As I've been trying to walk in Hepburn's shoes - or rather, walk her path in my own flashy but affordable kicks - I've realized it's an empty exercise if I merely try to BE her. If I try to tailor my attitude to match hers, or squander away my own set of principles (that I've delicately been building for 26 years) in favor of Hep's. This exercise is only full and exciting if I have the kahunas to say, "nope. That part of Hepburn doesn't work for me. I don't really give a damn about fresh-cut flowers." Because it means I'm taking ownership. I'm not a third-rate Katharine clone. I'm asserting something about me.
Okay, that was my little self-help rant. Ew.
Back to the Ani quote and the story behind it...
A friend and I went to the market on Saturday. She normally calls me up on Friday nights and asks if I "need to market" (love turning 'market' into a verb). We grab a coffee and a greasy deli sandwich and plan our route: mustard lady on the first floor, the Italian fruits and veggies stand in the basement, the bulk food place with aisles so narrow that my hips knock over cans of peanuts EVERY FREAKING TIME. We differ about which is the best cheese guy. I like the dude with the smokin' hot sons and the really cheap olives. She likes the guy who carries a certain type of French brie and always hits on her.
I love the market, I really do. Who can say "No" to sexy cheese men and buckets full of olives for a steal. But here's the thing...
Every time I go to the market, I work SO hard at enjoying it. Too hard. Unnaturally hard. I try to meander, smell all the smells, take in every sight. I try to be the romantic lead in a European film - you know, where the girl always has baguette sticking out of her bag, and a bouquet of daisies under her arm, and she's probably just come away from a fantastic morning fuck with her delicious lover and is on her way back home to eat that baguette off his naked chest. But I'm just NOT. I hate the families with strollers taking their sweet time, and having to press up against strange bodies on my way to the mustard lady. I want to GET to the mustard lady, BUY my mustard, and get home to EAT my mustard. Done and done.
Art imitates life, but life imitates TV. Art imitates life, but I go to the market and imitate Zooey Deschanel.
So what about Hepburn and appreciating the details in life?
Well perhaps the market just isn't my detail.
So what is?
Gnomeo and Juliet. Don't judge me. Or if you must judge me, at least consider the following.
I went to see it with a friend today. We were both sporting really deep and dirty hangovers. Ninety minutes of James McAvoy's liquid voice and a bunch of garden gnomes seemed appropriately brainless. And it was. I'm not claiming it's the greatest film; a few moments/characters in it border on "cheap". But we were in an audience full of kids, listening to them react exuberantly to Shakespeare jokes! And bad Shakespeare jokes at that.
My personal favorite: Juliet is trying to close a door on a ferocious dog.
JULIET: Out! Out!
DOG'S OWNER (from a distance): Damn Spot....Here, boy!
It had Elton John's music, Patrick Stewart as Shakespeare himself...these are my details. These are the things I can quietly appreciate. And I am not ashamed to say...I'm totally buying it on DVD when it comes out.
This is what the first weekend of the Hepburn experiment has taught me. I don't have to like daisies and baguette to be a full and wonderful woman.
Please please please let me know if you have a similar experience! I'd MORE than LOVE to hear it. You can always email me at moise.whittaker@yahoo.com.
I raise my glass to you all.
With a smile,
Moise
There is an expression I have seen a couple of time on Pinterest (fun site, check it out) about not being a copy, be an original, that thought popped into my head when I read the first part of your post. Don't try to be Katherine Hepburn but rather your version of her!
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