We are approaching the swankiest time of year in Toronto, where internationally famous actors and actresses, talented and untalented alike, descend on Yorkville in droves, bringing with them the hysterical frenzy of paparazzi and citizens who get more than a little too excited. Ordinary people (actors, however famous, are ordinary people too, but this denotes those whose fame extends merely to friends and family) will pretend to just-happen-to-be frequenting this or that restaurant, but secretly hope to catch a glimpse of a person who will inevitably, PR aside, feel overwhelmingly indifferent. People will no doubt rush to tweet about their ticket, or an actual invitation, to some exclusive party. Cue the name dropping. Do you know who was there last night? What a grotesque pile of horse shit.
Feeling good about attending a party with cool people is a practice suitable for insecure teenagers. Now, it’s true that if you remove the celebs from these parties they’re probably a reasonably good time, loaded with good appetizers and booze, but I’ll wager that without the celebs, most anonymous citizens and striving socialites would stay at home too. The rush to get into one of these parties is about status, not cocktail weenies. Frankly, I’d rather have those little franks.
A healthier way to free yourself of insecurity would be, you know, to do something with your life, not stalk famous people or use their presence to feel self-important. Now, if you get into a party, meet an actor, and actually convince him to open up and share candid stories, that’s the stuff of human interaction. Nothing wrong with that. They probably have better stories than most drunks at the local watering hole, even if they’re narcissistic scientologists. But the odds are way higher you’ll pay astronomical rates for an unsubstantiated reason to feel like a big deal. You can do better than that, and so can I.
And anyway, it’s not like I’m boycotting something where my presence is remotely expected or desired. Just the opposite: my presence at one of these parties would be the definitive assurance of inclusivity.
“Did you see Brangelina? Natalie Portman? Mila Kunis?”
“Nope…just Jeff. Very disappointing.”
I’ll stay at home and maybe watch one of those people on screen, where I, and they, belong.
