Carrie Fisher
Star Wars. 1977. I saw the face of my goddess for the first time. And it was good.
As such, her image became the arch-image in my little seven-year old head of feminine perfection: dark hair, dark eyes, soft, round features, short, stern attitude. Carrie Fisher was it, and still is, even though she’s my mom’s age. I met her in 2006 at Star Wars Celebration II. I waited for six hours in line to get an autograph. When I got up there, I knew she was blowing through people like a pro: paying no attention at all to anyone. “'I loved you in Jedi!' 'Yea, yea, thank you . I know.'” So I decided to get her attention. I needed her to look at me. We needed to share a moment…and we did.
When I get up to her, I said: “Your performance in Under the Rainbow was wonderful. It's one of my favorite films” This is an obscure but wonderful film about the making of the Wizard of Oz staring her and Chevy Chase from the early 80s. And it worked. She looks up at me, smiles, and says thank you. Then she turns to one of her handlers and says, “Write that one down. That’s the first time for that one.”