updates from the bradfields

02 Feb 08 Star struck in NYC

There are a lot of unique things about living in New York City, not the least of which is the number of celebrities roaming the streets, just living life like the rest of us. No one bothers them and no paparazzi crowd them. It’s pretty neat. Since we moved here last year, I’ve had a few star encounters. I hit Steve Buscemi with my stroller while exiting my local bagel shop. Just yesterday, I pushed Marley in a swing next to Maggie and baby Gyllenhaal. I missed Brooke Shields by minutes one day in SoHo. Who knows who else I’ve walked passed, bumped into or seen without my even knowing it.

I don’t consider myself particularly starstruck. I have some friends (ahem, Meghan, Nancy) who would DIE to meet some of these people. So, imagine my surprise when after having locked eyes with Gwyneth Paltrow at Citibabes, an ultra-hip kids gym in SoHo, I found myself thinking what it would be like to be her friend. I don’t mean just thinking about it that day or the next, but for a full week or so. Like I don’t have other things to worry about.

Here’s how my fantasy friendship would go: I’d smile with a mother’s understanding when she’s trying unsuccessfully to get Apple and Moses bundled up for the cold walk to their limo. She’d roll her eyes and ask “are your kids the same way?” I’d say “yes!” and our common ground would be laid. I’d tell her some of my tricks to get the kids to cooperate (yelling, threatening, general crazy mama stuff) and we’d commiserate about having 2 kids under 4 and how our husbands are always travelling. She’d finally get her brood ready, thanks to my great advice, and ask if I’d like to meet up some time. I’d say yes – nonchalantly, of course, like any good New Yorker would do.

We’d meet for lunch a few days later. To be fair, I’d tell her what I know about her – you know, the usual stuff a total stranger knows about you when you’re a celebrity, like how she won an Oscar and how she lost her dad a few years ago. To keep things equal, I’d tell her the same stuff about me – the awards I’ve won (all-round student in grade 8!) and what my family’s like.

I’d also tell her about Dave, of course, because I know a lot about her husband, Chris Martin. I wouldn’t mention that my phone’s ringtone is him singing “Yellow”. Or that we played that song in the church at our wedding. Until she knows me better, that might creep her out. I also wouldn’t mention that Dave and I joked before we moved here that maybe we could use Nicole to infiltrate Moses’ playgroup so we could meet Gwyneth and Chris. I wouldn’t want to make my new friend too uncomfortable.

We’d have a great lunch. I would eat twice as much as she does, of course, but we’d find a lot in common nonetheless. In the coming months, we’d see each other as her busy filmmaking schedule would allow. We’d even get Dave and Chris together a couple of times and Chris would really dig Dave’s music. Marley and Apple would become fast friends. They’d all love to visit quiet Brooklyn for my home cooked meals. We’d eat out at Manhattan restaurants we’d never get into if we didn’t know the Paltrow-Martins.

Now, what if we really do become friends? I’m at Citibabes for Marley’s French class every Friday. It’s possible I’ll see Gwyneth again.

This blog post might seal the deal. Or it quite possibly could make me a stalker in her eyes. Oh well – I wonder if Steve Buscemi needs any friends?