We had just seen Laurel Canyon and my love for Frances McDormand was greater than I ever imagined it could be. My Frances crush had developed in 1984 after seeing Blood Simple multiple times. I remember fantasizing about marrying the other Coen brother and being a part of that miraculous family. I would live in their world where genius, creativity and ironic music choices were the standard. I imagined that being in that environment would turn me into the kind of girl who wears jeans and t-shirts comfortably. In that environment, I would definitely be taller.
When Frances played Marge Gunderson in Fargo ten years later, I fervently hoped that the whole world would fall hard for her as I had. I envisioned the world being so much better if everyone would just share an appreciation for her essence as an artist. I couldn't think of any one person who captured the importance of being as crisply as Frances.
And then came Laurel Canyon. Frances McDormand playing a different kind of character than usual. In this movie, she wouldn't be pregnant or repressed or limited by her surroundings. In this movie, she was free.
And sure enough, Laurel Canyon was everything I hoped it would be. Two hours of sheer Frances worship. Another vehicle for her spirit. Another homage to her unforced sexuality.
Renewed after a most satisfying fix and psyched about purchasing a new soundtrack, I walked outside with my date for the afternoon, Christina.
We stopped at a faux bistro for pate, scallops, bread and garlic spinach. A perfect end to a pretty darn good afternoon.
So we're stuffed with appetizers - much to the chagrin of the very young waitress who quickly recognized her inability to pay off her student loans with our order.
And we're walking very slowly back to the parking garage.
And all of a sudden, a spunky young guy bounds up to us, intent on bringing us back from the la la land we'd been languishing in for the past several hours.
It seems Mr. Spunky, a guy half my age, had an amazing offer for us. Actually, he had an amazing offer this particularly beautiful late afternoon for ten women. Not nine or eleven, but ten. No, if an eleventh babe came along, she would most certainly be denied this excellent offer.
Being the nice people we are, and not wanting to waste Mr. Spunky's energy or time, Christina and I tried to get Spunky Boy to admit that his offer would require an exchange of money on our part. If he would have just admitted that one little detail, we could have ended the interaction quickly and allowed him to get on his way and accost another couple of babes.
But Spunky liked a challenge, apparently. He insisted on laying out the details of the offer. He was just dying to enumerate the benefits of a haircut, style and blow dry...all of which came with many other salon services allegedly worth close to $300.00 in total.
But we, being two of the ten specially selected ladies, could have this unbelievable package for a mere 60 bucks.
And Spunky Brewster really wanted us to understand the marketing concept. You see, if we liked the services provided, we would come back for more. And we would tell friends. And then they would come. It was a win-win situation. Or maybe that's win-win win-win. According to him, so many people would benefit, he could hardly stand it!
I didn't have the heart to tell this little boy that anyone older than him understands marketing concepts quite well based on a certain annoying commercial for Faberge Organics shampoo with wheat germ oil and honey.
Yeah, I bought it. And maybe I told two friends. And maybe they told two friends. And maybe the "so on and so on" actually occurred. Who knows. All I know is that I had the most impressive Dorothy Hamil wedge in all of my school. It had body, bounce and shine galore. And man, that wedge was BIG!
But our little Spunkster was just getting started.
He pointed to the item on the brochure which indicated that we could bring along the men in our life for this glamorfest.
Of course, being solo now, I took issue with this.
"Won't you be providing a man as part of this stupendous package?"
Spunk Boy was quick on the draw. He offered himself.
Now, I should admit that I was flattered for a nanosecond. That was before I came back to earth and reminded myself that this little guy would probably never want to be with someone of the female persuasion....much less me.
So anyway, this little campaign went on for several minutes too long.
We tried in every nice way possible to let Spunky know that we wouldn't be takers. But he just wouldn't read our lips. So to speak.
Finally, just really tired of the charade, I confronted him:
"Give me one good reason I should care that I'm one of ten women selected. Why is being one of ten women a draw for me? In which demographic is being one of ten a coup? I could have sworn being the only woman was my goal."
And his answer? Straight out of the textbook. And way too promptly provided. It was scary.
"People buy out of need, greed and fear of loss."
Apparently, the fear of loss was the fear of not being one of those lucky ten women selected and allowed to partake in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
According to the marketing firm of DC Woolsey and Associates, who I personally had never heard of before I was compelled to look up this piece of shit concept, people most certainly do buy out of fear - "fear of loss, fear of being left out, fear of rejection. Fear is a powerful motivator."
Wow. And I just thought I had commitment and self-esteem issues.
Upon hearing the phrase "fear of loss," Christina and I - against our better judgement and certainly against any sense of manners we possess - just literally cracked up. One of us managed to say grazi lo stesso (thanks, but no thanks) and we walked away.
We continued our walk to the parking garage, enjoying each other's company and the beginning of the cool night breeze blowing in our direction.
And we laughed a few more times at the absurdity of what we'd heard.
Christina and I have both experienced loss. Real loss. Loss of things that matter.
And we're still okay.
To think that either of us would ever make a choice again based on a fear of losing something we didn't even have yet seemed ridiculous beyond comprehension.
We wondered which demographic fell for that fear of loss thing. We hoped it wasn't anyone we knew.
I can't speak for Christina. But I know that I held onto many things in my life for fear of losing them.
And based on my perusal of the Dr. Phil section of Borders, I believe fear of loss is more commonly known as fear of the unknown. If I lose what I know, I'll be left with what I don't know.
The unknown was historically something that scared me silly. Or, to be more honest, fear of the unknown paralyzed me into a submission I stupidly named loyalty.
Today I'm not scared. I have more faith in the unknown - at times - than the known. For in the unknown, there's greater potential. And hope. And promise.
My only fear now is that next week we'll be walking to the parking garage and we'll pass ten really hot looking babes who clearly took the Spunk Man up on his offer.