“I think someone is spying on you,” said my creative director D____, as she tossed the Barney’s New York 2010 Fall Catalog on my desk. We’d just spent lot of together shooting in LA and my love of cats was no secret. In fact, it was the source of much entertainment (at my expense) on-set.
As I flipped through the pages of the fashion CATalog and read the story accompanying the beautiful photos taken by Walter Pfeiffer, I had to admit some of the storyline sounded familiar (check out the links I embedded to IHC posts). I couldn’t find out who wrote the imaginative storyline, probably some under-appreciated staff writer. Maybe single women with cats were finally coming into fashion.
So for those of you who haven’t seen it, here’s what you missed. What do you think? Do you see the similarities?
“Apartments were harder to find than a good boyfriend. I was surprised when I stumbled upon such a cool pad. It was almost as if nobody wanted it.
It was in the middle of the afternoon, maybe two or three days after moving in, that I first noticed the cat. I never questioned his presence. I never even bothered to give him a name.
He liked to watch me primp. It was almost as if he wanted to approve my dress, to bless my tresses. I never told him that I loved him. I was worried that if I did, then he would leave me, like all the boys before him.
Then I began to notice things. Strange things. Food bowls untouched. Kitty –litter no smell.
I called my great-aunt Cecelia. She has a way with cats. Always had.
I described my mysterious fury friend in detail. My great-aunt said that she needed to do a little psychic research before making a diagnosis. She would be in touch. Two days later a later a letter arrived.
My Dearest Niece,
I am perplexed by your feline conundrum. I have no good advice other than to suggest that you try the following: on the next full moon take your cat to a cozy corner. Place him on your lap and tell him you love him.
Great Aunt Cecelia
Tell the cat I love him? Sounds easy enough, dear reader. But not for me, I trembled at the thought.
On the next full moon I prep’d and primped all afternoon. I wanted to look beautiful for the cat. “I LOVE YOU!” I screamed!
When I opened my eyes, the cat had vanished. For the next few days I walked and walked. I was torn between melancholy and exhaustion.
I had fallen in love, and declared that love…and had lost that love. But I could not be angry. The object of my love was now free.
The cat was a phantom. The ghost of a love-sick spirit…trapped in limbo. I had set him free, but at what cost? I was alone again.
That night I dreamt I was a mad cat lady bicycling around town trying to catch strays in my basket.
The next morning…Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow! The End.
PS – Be careful what you wish for.”