The glamour crowd at Albertsons
This is actually one of my favorite parts about coming to Sundance: going to Albertsons to stock up for the week, and looking around at all the movie people doing the same.
No identifiable celebrities, yet–sorry. But clearly the people cramming the aisles right along with me and my crew were New Yorkers and L.A.ers. I’m talking about men in ankle-length fur coats. Lots of black turtlenecks and berets. Women with their pants tucked into their boots–always an indication that someone is more concerned with fashion than function. (The Functionistas like me are all about our fleece, and we don’t really bust out the makeup for this event, and we’re wearing long underwear under our Levi’s, and our pants are firmly on the outside of our boots, thank you, because we are sensible women who understand we might have to hoof it over a snow drift carrying eighty pounds of groceries and not just wave a long fingernail to summon a cab or the limo.)
The truth is we had so many groceries last night we scored a cab, too. But I swear it won’t happen again. We’re all about the bus when we show up here–crammed in with the rest of the masses, rushing to our next screening, people-watching and cell phone-eavesdropping along the way.
So of course we had to ask our cab driver if he’s seen any celebs. Turns out he was hired by actor Adam Brody (The O.C., right?) to squire him and his posse around from eight at night until four in the morning. How do people live like that? I can totally understand the reverse–waking up in the dark so you can write and get started on your coffee consumption for the day, then passing out around eight or nine so you never get to watch Top Chef or Project Runway, and have to wait to view the tape the next day–but what’s with this party-into-the-morning kind of lifestyle? That’s why young actors end up looking so ragged by the time they’re twenty-five. Memo to Adam: drink more orange juice and get some rest, young man. Your skin will love you.
Today is the beginning of the manic movie viewing. My cohort and I will be catching the bus at 7:30 (that’s A.M., Adam) for the first movie, then seeing three more flicks throughout the day, until we stumble back to our rooms around 9:00 at night. Yes, it’s a job. Yes, we’ll be eating our Wheaties. If you’re going to come up here for the festival, you might as well take it all the way.
I’ll report back at the end of the day. Fleece Girl here, signing out.
Technorati Tags: Sundance Film Festival, Movies, Fashion
Patrolling high above the city in the FleeceMobile, Fleece Girl hears the sound of breaking glass and screaming Starbucks patrons. Landing the FleeceMobile and jumping through the broken window of Starbucks, Fleece Girl finds the Evil and Twisted Coffee Monster ruthlessly beating a starbucks employee with his own severed arm.
“C is for COFFEE,” bellowed Coffee Monster.
“Put that arm down and back away from the beans, Monster,” said Fleece Girl.
The Men’s room door flies open and out walks MegaRobot Caffeinator.
“Trap. Fell. My. Into. Fleece Girl.” bleeped the MegaRobot.
Dark Queen Fashionista appeared in the window behind Fleece Girl.
“I’m going to tuck your pants into uncomfortable non-water proof boots, Fleece Girl,” hissed the Fashionista.
.
.
.
Will Fleece Girl pull the wool over their eyes?
Will Barry arrive with oatmeal in time?
Are Ninjas lurking near by?
Tune in tomorrow, same Fleece time, same Fleece channel!!!
Toward the end of his life, someone asked George Bernard Shaw what person in history he would most like to have been. He answered that he would most like to have been the George Bernard Shaw he might have been and never became.
At times, Patrick, I wish I could be who you pretend I could be. Sigh.
Oh, sorry for giving away your secret identity. Also, apologies to Barry – “The Oatmeal King”
I loved the Flash Gordon Serial. I can’t wait until tomorrow to see what happens to Fleece Girl.
You go, Robin! Give them all a dose of reality. Fleece rules the world.
Something horrible and unthinkable happened today: I went to the pantry for my oatmeal and IT WAS GONE!
Yes, in a fit of madness, SOMEONE used the last of the oatmeal to make…cookies!
Fortunately, I still had my emergency stash of microwaveable oatmeal packets, in fruit flavors. Peaches and Cream to the rescue! Breakfast is saved!
Heather, I’m back in the room for the quickest of breaks right now, but I can tell you that all day long it’s been nothing but pants tucked into boots. WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE?
Barry, too bad, so sad. I feel your oatmeallessness.