Friday, June 24, 2005

Fake Celebrity #46

Line 2, direction Nation, 7 PM

Elizabeth was wearing five strands of pearls (I counted), not including the wristbands. One came all the way down to her waist, another had pearls the size of ping pong balls. Her entourage was small, no press people or assistants. It consisted only of two dogs: one elephant-sized German Shepard sprawled unhappily across the metro car floor and a scraggly little terrier. Elizabeth was clad entirely in white, a good choice given the crushing heat, but not a good choice given that it made her look like a beluga whale. She had evidently styled her hair to resemble the terrier, who sat quietly drooling onto her lap. Her face was masked with black, rhinestone-studded sunglasses. The lenses were the size of dinner plates.

The dogs, in contrast, had evidently gone for a less dramatic, more rustic look. The German Shepard had selected a simple red bandana slung around his neck; the terrier was somewhat more daring, with a ruffled, multicolored cloth neckpiece, very gypsy horsemen number at Barnum and Bailey’s.

The trio seemed quite content and carried on an animated conversation, oblivious to the heat and crowds. Nobody asked Elizabeth for autographs. I couldn’t help but wondering, however, why she was taking such a long metro ride with her canine friends. She rode from Victor Hugo to Barbès, a good twenty minutes. I mean, Elizabeth Taylor, don’t you have a chauffeur?