For the first time in almost two years of living in Los Angeles, I got that ‘Oh, I actually live less than five miles away from Hollywood’ feeling. I saw a celebrity in the truest sense of the term. I saw Brad Pitt. The genuine article. And he was standing less than two feet away from me.
Los Angeles is full of lesser mortals who have king (or queen)-size attitudes and similarly misguided fashion senses. The place where I work, unfortunately, abounds with this type of self-proclaimed ‘celebrity’ visitors and it’s not a pleasant sight witnessing one of their tantrums.
So I was sceptical, to say the least, when one of my co-workers mentioned we had Brad Pitt on the premises. And unable to resist the impulse to at least check out the truth, or lack thereof, of the info, I sailed forth to do a bit of covert observation.
And bingo! It WAS Mr Pitt, looking very, very ‘normal’ and down-to-earth in baggy jeans, hoodie, cap and over-sized sunshades. But the Pitt factor was unmistakable. This WAS indeed the ‘sexiest (56-year-old) man alive’ checking out items on display, at a distance of roughly two feet. From me. And from the items on display.
In the initial days of living in this city and doing this job, I would expect to run into a rock star or three any minute. As time went by and the only VIP ‘celebrities’ I saw at work were the sullen-looking staff of our own admin department, I gradually forgot that I was even in LA – the land of real celebrities. And frankly, one is so tired most of the time hustling for survival in this hard-as-nails environment, one begins to resent those who have it easy, even if they earned it.
Thank you, Brad Pitt, for overturning that cynicism, even for five minutes.
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