Sarah Knowles, for Best Production Design, for HBO Films' "Warm Springs." It was a fantastic weekend in Los Angeles, starting with a battery-recharging Friday evening media buzzards' soiree, and meeting Larry Miller, who still wants to know me despite my early in the evening rotating seats away from him because, I don't know, I thought I was supposed to rotate. And feeling really swell when friends Steve Oney and David Rensin said, "Put the girl in the middle! In the middle!" and then squeezed a seat between them for me. And the host saying, "Look, you need to come every month--what's the big deal?" And when the party broke up, sighing from sheer contentment as I drove down from the Hollywood Hills and into Bev Hills, where I joined Sarah in our suite at the Beverly Wilshire, where the bathtub was as big as my truck, and we drank champagne in bed and laughed about the boy with the teeth parallel to the ground who tried to kiss Sarah when we were fourteen. And the following morning, going to Peter Stuart's mom's estate sale, where I purchased, for $50, an Yves Saint Laurent black fox-trimmed wool cape from the early 70s, a piece of clothing so exquisite it makes one reevaluate, as in, I need to go to New York soon so I can wear this on the plane and I will wrap my grandchild in this and watch him sleep. Then we had our bodies scrubbed for an hour and 45 minutes at Olympic Spa, that of the mugwort tea bath and black-underwear-clad Korean attendants; mine, Kang, was so strong I was sure at one point she was using a Plexiglas rod to attack my insoles, but it was just her thumbs. Looking for a fab top for Sarah at Barney's yeilded nothing, though I did try on a $2,895 princess dress that I will buy and wear to the National Book Awards, when/should I win. We had better luck at Saks, though Sarah later dismissed what we chose as a "mother of the bride" blouse and wore what she'd originally intended. More champagne later, and the following morning, breakfast with Cathy Seipp, who sweetly insisted on buying our eggs and toast, as the seven-mile drive from Bev Hills to Silver Lake took me 70 minutes, due to the LA Triathalon; stuck driving south on La Brea when I wanted to be going north, I asked a cop, "It is going to be forever until I can take a left?" and he said, "About that long." I rejoined Sarah, we got into our finery, and into a limo bound for the Shrine, both of us exhausted. ("This may be the first time I arrive at a function with the occupants asleep," said our driver.) The Emmys featuring all the Desperate Housewives will be this Sunday; last Sunday's were the Creative Emmys, hosted by George Lopez, who was great, as was Jerry Lewis, who received a Governor's Award for all his years devoted to the Muscular Dystophy Telethon, and who explained how he was actually the most selfish man in the world because it is he who gets so much from the children, and then told some very blue jokes, and Jack LaLanne, who made everyone stand up and do calisthenics. And when it came to Sarah's category, there was a tie, and the first winners did something that made Lopez say, "Fuck," and he launched into a bit about how they could take it out in post; they could take anything out in post, and I'm sitting next to Sarah knowing she will win, and then Lopez calls it for "Warm Springs," and Sarah gives me a look that I can only describe as, "What the hell...?" and then I burst into tears, and she walks down the aisle and to the stage and she looks so beautiful on the monitor, she looks 25, with her long hair cascading as she thanks her crew for their dedication and ferocity. And later, we call our families, and when I tell Din, he says, "Holy smokes!" And then, the dinner, in a space the size of many football fields, and the hundreds of tables, and the massive Deco lighting, and the Big Band and torch singer, and people telling Sarah she is so wonderful, and we are at the table, where her big gold Emmy sits, and we are drinking champange and I tell her, "I feel like one of the haves," and she says, "We are."
Those who'd like to see Sarah get the award on-air can do so this Sunday.
Those who'd like to a great cup of coffee and some of the world's best chocolate chip cookies may do so at Din's new coffee roastery/cafe, Ristretto Roasters, which opens this Friday, at 3520 NE 42nd Ave. (at Fremont).
Nancy, congratulations! It sounds wonderful. Din's new cafe, is that in the former home of Oceanborne?
Posted by: vj | September 15, 2005 at 12:30 PM
Close enough: It was called Winterbourne.
Posted by: | September 15, 2005 at 12:49 PM
Any chance of mail order?
Posted by: kathy | September 15, 2005 at 07:24 PM
There will be mail order. Site will be up in a month or so. Will post when, of course.
Posted by: nancy | September 15, 2005 at 10:13 PM
Congratulations to Sarah, who so richly deserves it. Raise a cup of joe (and a cookie) to her in my honor at the grand opening of Ristretto!
Posted by: Hillary | September 16, 2005 at 08:51 AM
Hillary - And a cup of Joe to you, for getting the Ristretto ball rolling. PS: Glad you're back.
Posted by: nancy | September 16, 2005 at 09:38 AM
This post made me cry, Nancy. You're a great friend to have; Sarah's incredibly lucky to have had you for so long.
Posted by: Jackie Danicki | September 17, 2005 at 07:18 AM