By Donna Schwartz Mills
© 2001
It happens when you least expect it. You will be engaged in the most normal activity, like standing in line at the supermarket, and see someone you know in the next line. But in the split-second it takes for your inner computer to match the face with where it’s been seen, you realize that it was on TV and Horrors! You’ve been staring. You quickly look away and hope nobody noticed.
In Southern California, where such events can occur quite often, the natives know you must never acknowledge, point at or otherwise call attention to a celebrity in your midst. It wouldn’t be cool, and we want, above all else, to be cool.
This does not mean we don’t get a secret thrill when we’ve had a chance encounter with the rich and famous. We’re human, after all. We just keep quiet until we’re out of range. Then we trade the news of our sightings with our friends, like kids showing off their Pokemon cards.
Like one day last summer when I brought my daughter to her karate class on Ventura Boulevard.
‘I just saw Gwyneth Paltrow buying fish!’ announced one of the other moms, who had been buying aquarium supplies at a shop across the street.
‘I saw Madonna yesterday on La Cienega,’ countered another parent, who had been busy with a remodeling project. ‘She was buying upholstery fabric and was pregnant in a belly shirt.’
As I pulled out of the parking lot that night, I could have sworn Barbra Streisand was driving in the next lane, but the car was a Honda, so I could be mistaken.
A few weeks later, I had the pleasure of hosting my 11-year-old nephew for a week. He lives in Sacramento, 400 miles and a world away from La-La Land. He did not want to go to the beach, or Disneyland, or even Universal Studios. He wanted to see STARS.
Now, as common as celebrity sightings are in this town, you can’t just conjure them up at will. They’re a bit like earthquakes; sooner or later you know you’re going to have one, you just don’t know when.
But I aim to please, so each day of his visit, we went to a place where I’d seen someone famous in the past. Restaurants on Ventura
parks in Studio City
the mall in Sherman Oaks. We did not see anyone who looked vaguely familiar. Zip. Nada.
Our conversations went something like this:
‘There’s where we saw Sylvester Stallone playing golf.’
‘Who?’
‘We once saw Kirstie Alley and Parker Stevenson eating dinner at that table.’
‘Who?’
‘That’s where Wendy saw Gwyneth Paltrow buying fish.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘She won an Academy Award for Shakespeare in Love.’
‘That’s rated R. My mom won’t let me see that.’
My friends, who took a liking to Alex, tried to help. One, who works as a REALTOR in Studio City, took him on a drive through the neighborhood, pointing out the homes of Sarah Michelle Gellar and Melissa Joan Hart. But there was no sign of either Sarah or Michelle. Another friend, whose husband works on ‘The X Files,’ got us a pass onto the Fox Studios lot. Unfortunately, not much was happening that day, so we contented ourselves with strolling down the famous New York streets and admiring the paintings of classic Fox films that adorn some of the soundstages.
Alex went home without scoring one famous person sighting. His 12-year-old sister then took her turn to spend a few days with us.
Her first night, we ate dinner at a little neighborhood pub my husband and I go to often. In a far corner of the room, I heard a familiar voice. It was Rose Marie, from the old Dick Van Dyke show, still recognizable after 40 years, right down to the bow in her hair.
‘This will kill Alex,’ said his loving sister. ‘Let’s call him.’ ‘He won’t know who she is,’ I said. ‘Just knowing that WE saw someone famous is enough,’ she said.
Carly was right. His groan made her stay worthwhile to her.
But that wasn’t all. The next day, while lunching at California Pizza Kitchen, we saw another star of an old TV show. And the next day, we ran into another.
‘You’re killing me,’ said Alex.
It’s turned into a kind of game. Since that week, we’ve spied Harry Hamlin and Lisa Rinna, Frankie Muniz, Laura San Giacomo and David Duchovny. Each time, we call my nephew, who is looking forward to his next visit to L.A. If anyone famous is reading this, please drop me a line and tell me where you’ll be. I promise not to divulge your whereabouts (after all, that would not be cool). But if we can arrange a ‘chance encounter,’ you’ll make a young boy very happy. And afterwards, I’ll have something new to tell my friends
Donna Schwartz Mills was born in the same Hollywood hospital as Liz Taylor’s kids. That building is now a Scientology Center, which she claims is proof of her credentials as a true Angeleno. Donna is the Webmaster Mommy of SocalMoms.com, a new resource for moms in Southern California. She is also the work-at-home expert behind the ParentPreneur Club … and recently edited ‘Baby Tips for New Parents.
