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Outside the Espirit in the Time Warner Center last night, a man walked by and looked me up and down, then stopped around the corner and began to look at pictures on his large digital camera. I was leaning against a pole, looking a little angry and staring into the store as Lydia was trying on clothes. He did not look like he was there to do any shopping, and I began to wonder who he was and why he noticed me. He was Italian, with a pony tail, black leather jacket, black jeans, mirrored aviator sunglasses on his forehead, a large camera, and a secret service style earpiece which I hadn't seen at first. After turning off his camera, he came back my way with his sunglasses on, then stopped in front of me and took his glasses off.

"Are you paparazzi?" he asked.


"You look like paparazzi."

"I do?"

"Yeah, with the bag." I was carrying my usual Mountain Smith side bag.

"Oh, I'm not."

"Ah, I thought you saw someone in there. I just saw Goldie Hawn."

"Oh yeah? Here?"

"Yeah, she bumped me on her way out to let me know she knew what I was doing. Want to see?"

"Nice camera," I said while he looked for his pictures of Goldie Hawn.

"I'm a photographer. My dad is a photographer. I don't want to be doing this paparazzi stuff, but I have to pay the bills. I know how people feel about us," he stops to show me the picture of Goldie Hawn. "This is great, she looks drugged out in this one."


"So you haven't seen anyone else?"

"No, maybe they're in the steak house upstairs?"


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 21st, 2007 08:03 pm (UTC)
what a great interaction!
you shoulda whipped out a camera
and gotten his mug.
Feb. 21st, 2007 09:49 pm (UTC)
I did have my camera in my bag like a good paparazzi...
Feb. 21st, 2007 09:36 pm (UTC)
That's funny.
Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't see more celebrities around if I was actually looking out for them and paying attention. There's been times when they've been pointed out to me where I would've otherwise not noticed.
Feb. 21st, 2007 09:55 pm (UTC)
I have the same problem. Other people's reactions to the person I'm standing next to or behind are what clue me in. Except for the other night when I was walking behind Al Sharpton on 5th Ave.

I wanted to tell the photographer I would be bad at his job because I would never recognize anyone. I didn't say that, though.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )


Garrett Palm

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