Last night at the Polo Lounge, a meeting with a producer, and I thought of the many times I’ve been at the Polo Lounge, and every time I go to meetings there or at the Bel Air Hotel, I feel woefully under-dressed. My heels are never high enough, no matter high they are, and they aren’t achingly new and thoroughly modern. My skirts are always much too long, and my jewelry is too loose and limp, not like the angular stiff pieces of jewelry, around the neck, the wrist, the ankle, the thick pieces of swanky jewelry. Several girls in very tall boots and tiny shorts. And girls with a lot of makeup and cleavage and a reckless abandon with their drinking. The lights were low and the Polo Lounge deep with girls and music.
You always think you see famous people. The woman at the table next to me was, I swear, Mila Kunis or if she wasn’t, she looked very much like her. There is always a feeling that the world is happening and you are finally part of it, but you don’t know what your part in it is. On the way home, through the canyons, I feel the wind happening.