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July 06, 2006

Not Quite Cinderella

A few weeks ago, the socialite gods of New York smiled on us, inexplicably, and Derek was invited to the Public Theater's summer gala for Shakespeare in the Park. He asked me if I was interested. Did you notice the word "gala" in there? I did, and had a little terrified fit about the inevitable wardrobe saga that might ensue (for me, the wardrobe issue eclipses EVERYTHING, sadly, when it comes to swanky events), but pulled myself together enough to say yes. Then I forgot entirely about the whole thing until two days beforehand.

Derek reminded me about it during work, and a quick Google search turned up a description on the Public Theater's site. It mentioned celebrities and CEOs and the social elite. It sounded fabulous and not at all like something we had any business being invited to. The night before the event, I quizzed D about the dress code. "What does "gala" mean, exactly? Does it say "business attire"? What should I wear?" I took a quick trip to nearby stores and came up with up a silk scarf and a pair of strappy shoes. I found out later that neither could be worn with a single item of clothing that I already own. I had visions of turning up on Go Fug Yourself as an Anonymous Fug ("What was she thinking? Silk and nylon together in the same outfit? And those hideous, dime-store shoes! Please, ban this woman from special events in New York until she gets a stylist.").

I tried on everything in my closet, hoping that I might discover a long-forgotten designer dress deep in a garment bag, but no luck. Derek endured an hour of me parading by in mismatched skirts and tops and dresses. In the end, I wore black dress pants, shoes that gave me four blisters, a lacy black top purchased during lunch the same day, and an entirely season-inappropriate wool jacket (the only designer-ish item I own). Sigh.

The event itself was completely surreal. We knew we'd see Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline, the two celebs being honored, but I didn't expect to see quite so many others. I should mention that I never, ever recognize celebrities in public. When I do, I rarely know their names. So far in my decade of living in the city, I've seen the back of Richard Gere's head (after someone told me he walked by), that guy from Third Rock From the Sun, and someone else (I can't even remember my confirmed celeb sightings). It's just not my thing. To say that I saw a lot of celebrities means that this event was chock full of them. I almost feel guilty writing about them here, as if I've broken some New York contract of anonymity, or it's in bad taste (it probably is, but aren't you curious?).

After hobbling through Central Park to the theater, we made it to our al fresco table, said hello, and then headed back to the buffet. The crowd looked well-coifed and confident, and I imagine that many of them were higher-ups in the theater and media world that I would recognize if I knew the first thing about either industry. I tried to look around for familiar faces without seeming too conspicuous about it. I think half the crowd was doing the same thing because I noticed a lot of people eyeing me (and hopefully not because I was wearing some off-the-rack ensemble from the Time Warner mall). On the way back from the buffet, we saw our first celeb, Alan Alda. I think that was my favorite one, too -- how can you help but love Alan Alda? He feels so approachable (not that I went anywhere near him).

Back at our seats, someone pointed out David Geffen and Diane Von Furstenburg across the way. We saw Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who's looking a bit scruffy (for a part?) but cute that way. A few minutes later, I looked up from a conversation to notice an unmistakable Tom Hanks walking right by our table in a baseball cap. My jaw dropped and I smiled and said an incredulous, involuntary "Oh my god" to Derek, trying to convey the (lovely) absurdity of the whole experience to him.

There were plenty of other celebs to notice, and other people at our table did a much better job of finding them -- they kept saying "so-and-so" is over there, etc. I should reiterate the utter injustice of having me attend this over someone who actually knows something about film and theater.

After dinner, we decided to walk around before the play started. As we did, the presentation began, so we stepped off to the side. We watched the Public Theater presenters, Mayor Bloomberg, and the two honorees (Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline) give short speeches lauding the tradition of Shakespeare in the Park. Derek says we were staring straight at Helen Hunt through the whole thing, but I missed her. I did see Cynthia Nixon walk by, though (great dress, great hair).

The event included tickets to Macbeth and to the after party. At Macbeth, a bunch of mildly recognizable people were sitting in front of us (models?), but I wasn't expecting to see Bill Clinton. He was less than twenty feet away, smiling and chatting with people. Given the political landscape now, I felt a strange combination of nostalgia and gratitude. Chelsea also became visible a few minutes later, doing the same. Both seemed happy to be there. Everyone seemed happy to be there, actually -- it's a pleasant event, and though it was threatening to rain, it didn't, and a cool breeze kept the heat at bay. I saw Tom Hanks again, and Candice Bergen was a few rows in front of us.

Although I only recognized a few big names, I felt as if I were swimming in celebrities, and I probably was (celebrities of varying degrees, anyway). I didn't know quite what to do, and wished mightily that I might run into Ben Widdicombe, the one person I know who might be able to make sense of the scene for me (he's a savvy gossip columnist for the Daily News and an old coworker of mine). Being in the general vicinity of such tremendous talent was both intimidating and intriguing but also a little odd, since we were basically spectators -- paying visitors to the social stratosphere.

Macbeth was fantastic. It's been a while since I've seen Shakespeare, and the two leads (Macbeth, Lady Macbeth) were played very well. The staging was a little strange at times. Some of the modern touches, like guns and a WWII-style microphone, didn't seem to fit, but I liked the more modern wardrobe. The witches were well played. Some of the character transformations weren't as convincing as they could be, but who am I to be critical, sitting in an audience with a similar celebrity ratio to that of the Oscars?

The highlight of the evening was the walk away from the theater. We were pointed by a staff member in the opposite direction of the after party (coincidence?) and had to take the long way around. While I was complaining about my mangled toes and the shoes that could not possibly have been made with feet in mind, Derek asked me if I recognized any nearby voices. When I kept quiet I realized we could hear every word from the two people walking right behind us, and one of them was, without a doubt, Tom Hanks (again). I tried to make conversation so we wouldn't be obviously eavesdropping, but I couldn't walk very fast because of my horrible shoes, so we spent a nice five minutes being serenaded. Completely surreal.

Photos from the red carpet can be found at Getty Images (Rosie Perez was wearing pants, too!).

Posted by csageday at July 6, 2006 12:30 AM

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Posted by: Amber at July 6, 2006 05:51 PM

Posted by: Cindy at July 6, 2006 10:09 PM

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