warmlove's Diaryland
Diary
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My Dehydrated Skin, my fussy soul
*You finally made me happy/when you walked out that door* Summer in London...A big, spaghetti jumble of niceness and shiteness. Some weird moments after the Peter Andre grope in that same field..One day, working on Clarins in the pencil skirt, that encases my sausage-meat thighs like a blood red corset...any hint of a stomach bulge showcased in a tight white T-shirt...my name, as the bright yellow selfridges badge screamed, today was, "Victoria"...a man (older looking late twenties/early thirties) approached the counter and asks if he can borrow some man cream cos hes got an important meeting. I squirt some blue hydrating gel into his little palm and he rubs it over his mug, telling me (more than once)about how because it was hot he didn't feel like wearing a suit to the meeting so he bought these new trainers and new T-shirt which was a white team GB Olympic one.He asked me where I was from and for some reason didn't believe London because of my voice - for whatever reason. He asked if he could give me his card. I said yes so not to be rude. I foolishly fed the fire and asked what his job was cos I saw Director on his card. he then bragged about how he was going down to nike or somewhere to get the whole Arsenal squad their football boots. He then demanded "You call me Victoria" and disappeared in a puff of metaphorical show-off scented smoke.
10 minutes later a lady from The flower company concession just off the food hall arrived, asking for Victoria. I looked down at my borrowed badge realizing that today I was indeed Victoria. She had a big old-fashioned bouquet of flowers with her. 'These are from Kevin' she said. 'He was okay, he was quite nice' she said as I was bent double in laughter and disbelief. I was so freaked out and a little embarrassed. 'From Kevin' the note said. Short but Desperate plea for that phone call. If he had been the love of my life I am sure I would have felt it, smelt it and known with every bone in my body. Those fucking flowers, (I checked the next day) cos �55!!!! What tha fuck!!!! That is about the same as what I took home for that days work! Just spunked up the wall by a guy wanting to impress a lady stranger (me). Then there was the manic 21 year old, from the fancy University with a Blur obsession and a pre-disposition for chain-smoking and sipping Barcardi out the bottle at 4am in bed. The polar opposite, of course. Was working in Harvey Nicolls-land a coupla weeks later, stood with a Balenciaga clasped betwixt my clammy hands when a huge, jangly leather-clad Russell Brand and female companion swept in like something out of a biker version of Lord of the Rings. It scared me a bit, I did jump a little, the whole stretch of fragrance hall went silent as he swept in which was quite funny. I gave him a small smile when he passed me again to leave,glancing in my direction, trying not to stare him out like a stalker, but the ego of the celebrity, I'm sure, feeds off of the eyes of strangers silently locked in their direction. Then the next day, far more low key, I saw Ralph Fiennes' head pop in, asking for Menswear. Sat in Actors Centre trying to do all the work I've had for the past 2 months from school just not bothered to do cos of the excuse of working be arse to the bone - tho i feel that 40-48 hour weeks doesn't sound as epic as I'd like! One of the patrons was in, Richard Wilson I think, I over heard some juicy, very posh actor jargon as he had a conversation with a lady and did smile to myself. Then a Director dude shabbily dressed in a black pin-striped suit and a baseball cap who knows Nathan, saw my face and was saying I looked right for this piece of Theatre about Tupac Shakur he was producing in East London, Bow in fact. And other stuff in the future. Gave me his card. Intruiging, nice bit of effortless networking.
Saw Jacqueline Wilson on the Northern line! I remember when she came to The Russell in year 5..big, turquoise and silver rings on every finger, silver hair. Love(d) her books.
Met up with Sparkles again. Last time when we went to that birthday party at The Old Jam factory (ah, what a sentence!) little, pathetic things she said grated on me like 1. Her not getting why �7 for a bottle of wine I consider expensive..yes, Okay she's got Italian parents so she would pay more for a higher quality wine than my cheap, cheap anything-will-do English attitude to alcoholic beverages. 2. Her insisting the only reason I don't have much money is because I'm a student at Alra...I'd hate to say that I'm better off now then when I was living in Bow..yes, I did get that amazing paying job before I went to drama school but I've chosen to be an actor and retail worker and money WILL be scarce after drama school. 3. Her talking about a friend of a friend whose family gave her half a million pounds to go shopping for a flat she loved in London. She described the family as 'not one of those usual families who only do things for each other and expect things in return' which felt like a dig when I (lightly)complained that often my sisters turn up to visit me with nothing to eat or plans for how to get food or money so me being hungry and never wanting to be stuffing my face when others sit, hungry, watching me, buy food for them. Obviously. I wouldn't mind if I could afford it or if I knew they didn't have any options or if they ever returned the favour. Maybe that's what being an older sister means.I'm not tight I know I'm not tight but I do end up indulging in that deep sigh induced by the message - AVAILABLE BALANCE TO WITHDRAW: NIL often. Terrible that these little things that I could have argued at the time spoil meeting up with a good friend. I suppose its always the best when we haven't seen each other in months...being regular weekly friends is something were not used to.
I do bang on about money and I don't want to paint a picture of being some suffering poor person....I grew up in a nice house in the suburbs then a posh rural area and my Mum and Dad have helped and do help me out with some money to afford fees etc.
But I do work hard, I haven't had a holiday since 2005 and that's fine...I'm spoilt in comparison to most. Anyhoo..I can ramble and be self-indulgent like this because this is whats in my head and here for noone to see (cough*CornishAndroo*).
This time we had lovely Thai food meal-deal (minus the Boots Shaper yoghurt) on this cute Tiki balcony on Portabello road. Felt like we could be on holiday but it also felt a bit depressing (work the next day always looms over your head when you want more than anything to just leap up to your feet and go do something adventurous and spontaneous) I was a bit snappy..Icouldn't explain why I thought people saying (Para)Olympic athletes were amazing only BECAUSE they were, for example missing a leg was patronising...they are great sportspeople regardless I think. People really acted like if you used a wheelchair, for example, then you are only noteworthy if you are an athlete...Sparkles dismissed this as thinking to deeply about it. I hate when people are like that..why NOT think deeply? That's how you stop being a CBBC presenter drone isn't it?
Her proclaiming that there aren't many Black or mixed-race actresses out there and none of them are very good...wow..that shocked me a little. I do ramble but sometimes when you think you are on the same level as someone its horrible when you find these clashes and you can't argue about it in an enjoyable way. This, ladies and gentlemen is why I have never had a Best Friend. I'm not cut out for it, I'm way to finnickety and anal! Been chatting to a coupla agency people and when the subject of acting comes up few do I have a conversation like I would at Alra where you touch on the passion and the excitement of the world of acting and theatre and films, obviously still acknowledging that its a tough business. Some people seem to have no passion, is that a London thing? People are either too cynical about it and it depresses the fuck out of you or totally unhinged and airy-fairy about it. I really think Alra's philosophy produces non-douchebag actors with a great attitude. Also when I'm meeting new people at work, because all I do when I'm not working full-time there is Drama school it can be hard to strike up interesting conversation about anything else. Cos apart from meeting friends and eating overpriced meals I don't do anything else. Or maybe I'm just boring!
Can't wait to go back in 2 days time! I've missed the big Freshers party week and a meeting but I've gotta squeeze the last out of the summer on that shop floor boy! A maybe homeless man, with an old violin case on his back and lots of salt and pepper stubble n his chin passed me on Clapham high street and held out a plastic cube with a long spring coil stuck in it with a red perspex heart on the end, bouncing about - like a cheap MTV award or something 'Here, I've got this for you. Take it. Take it!'
so I hesitantly took it, and examined it, thanking him, he disappeared up the road, to talk to this young homeless guy with light brown dreadlocks who always sits under the railway bridge reading a paperback book (he had a white plastic car that he was examining as I passed). That bouncy heart trophy will proudly sit on my little Wigan window sill! That was my Nicest moment in London all summer.
x
8:30 p.m. - 2012-09-14
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