Becca Tucker is clueless, of that I’m sure. This article she wrote – about stalking Claire Danes – is about as low as low gets. & Ignorant. To me, it’s typical of this new breed of New Yorkers who come here to be near the money and the fame and the art & who don’t understand the premise: that we, as New Yorkers, get to live around the talented, the rich, & the famous BECAUSE WE DON’T BOTHER THEM.
Celebrities come here in order to disappear a little, without hiding behind walled gates and guards. A lot of creative people want to be around people living, going to work, waking up in time to make the donuts. It’s why, I think, there are so many film-makers and writers and poets and performance artists here; we thrive off of each other’s ideas but also off of the buzz of life around us.
The point isn’t that you can stalk Claire Danes. Tons of famous people live here and would be easy enough to stalk, and that includes people who are famous for anything and everything you can imagine. But they live here because New Yorkers are famously cool and relatively unimpressed with fame; it’s a sign of your own couth, here, to not be so overwhelmed with seeing someone famous that you can keep your cool. You might smile, or even politely ask for an autograph if the person is an especial hero, but for me, the real joy has always been in watching someone I admire show up at an event I went to (like watching a Buster Keaton move with David Byrne, or seeing a Bill Irwin show while seated a couple of rows behind Robin Williams, or even seeing Rufus Wainwright with David Bowie en scene).
I mean, *of course* famous people are here, and accessible, and sometimes they even buy their own groceries. This is New York, and hello! – that’s the fucking point. It’s perfectly acceptable to wait to meet celebrities when they’re on – like at a stage door or a premiere, or a book signing or lecture or performance – but not when they’re walking their dog.
Get some manners, people. Or go back to where you came from.
(via Feministe)