May 22, 1999
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Sometimes I like to play Audrey Hepburn for a day. Of course, I'm as clumsy as she was graceful, but we did have have a few similarities. Our birthdays are one day apart. We were both diagnosed with asthma. She and I were almost the same height and weight. Her first husband was Mel Ferrer, and one of my high school crushes was Justin Ferrar. I loved Yorkshire Terriers before discovering that Audrey carried her little Yorkie with her everywhere. Yes, this is a stretch, but it's my silly delusion and I will have Audrey Days if I choose.

I had an Audrey Day this week, and being that I was in New York, I thought I'd also do a bit of Audrey sightseeing. After going to the Museum of Modern Art, I strolled down to Fifth Avenue. Terribly underdressed for the occasion, I sauntered into the Salvatore Ferragamo store; the shoemaker had re-issued a shoe especially made for Audrey Hepburn in the late 1950s. The sales clerks ignored me as I inspected shoe after shoe. But there was no Audrey shoe to be found. Finally, I took a seat next to a glass-encased slipper that I found quite delightful. "If my feet were not so wide," I thought, "and if I were crazy enough to spend hundreds of dollars on shoes, I would probably wear those." I picked up a brochure with Audrey on the cover, and there she was, trying on that same shoe. Rather pleased with myself for liking the Audrey shoe without knowing that it was the Audrey shoe, I left the snooty shoe store and began to walk uptown.

My next stop, of course, was Tiffany & Co. That is the proper name of the renowned jewelry store. But just like everyone else, I call it Tiffany's, and that's what it is called in that charming movie starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard. Wishing that I were wearing my black dress and eating a danish, I poked my nose around the jewelry cases. Generally, I do not like jewelry, as it is usually a distraction from the simple beauty of, for example, the dip where neck meets clavicle. But I wanted a Tiffany's box, with that robin's-egg-blue and simple white ribbon. I decided to buy some stationery, as it would be relatively inexpensive. Sadly, the least expensive paper cost $40, and this was for a set of two-inch notecards. Frustrated at Tiffany's for being too expensive for my Audrey Day, I left in a stomp.

Finally, I walked to Bergdorf Goodman, whose windows featured a little cosmetics kit "inspired by" Audrey. At the Prescriptives counter, I found the kit and began to play with it. The colors all had cute names which corresponded with various Hepburn films. As I was drawing little stars on my hands with an eyeliner pencil, one of the makeup artists accosted me and asked if I needed help. I asked a few questions about the kit, and I mentioned that the colors were absolutely lovely. "Thank you," replied the man. "I designed them." Well! So we began to talk about Audrey, and it turns out that he'd designed part of the new Audrey Style book, too. I tried on a lipstick called "Cat" and decided, what the hell, it would be a good souvenir of my Audrey Day. Unfortunately, Prescriptives Man informed me that it was available only in the kit. And the kit cost $175, which is far too expensive for me. I began to retreat once more, frustrated with high prices that ruin Audrey Days of midwestern girls -- when suddenly, Prescriptives Man stopped me. "Here, this is for you," he said, slipping me a small metal tube. It was the lipstick. I thanked him profusely, even scribbling an impromptu thank-you note within fifteen minutes. It's not the actual lipstick that made me so happy, as waxy pigment is just a fun diversion. Rather, the simple kindness of this stranger made me feel, if only for a moment, that somebody wanted me to have an Audrey Day. And I did.