The Oscars 2013 - Part 1: Getting Ready

The day I had the certainty that I was going to LOS ANGELES to see the OSCARS, was also the day I started freaking out about it. 

I thought: ok, this is not going to happen. This is too good to be true. 

Something will come up, FOR SURE, obliging me to stay at home: I will fall down from the stairs again, I will have a flu, there will be a strike at the Paris airport, or at the Los Angeles airport, the city will be hit by a snow storm, or there will be a locusts invasion.
No doubt something will prevent me to be on board of that plane to Los Angeles!!!
I was so scary that I gave the incredible news just to few people.
My colleagues and a bunch of friends knew, but on the social networks I kept a low profile. I was very discreet until the very last moment. I was so discreet that I started doubting I was actually going. Nevertheless, on Saturday February 23, there I was: in good health, no falls, no strikes, no snow storms and not even the famous locusts invasion!
Passport and tickets in my hands, ready to sing: Silver Jet take me, I’m all set, Take me, Through the sky etc… (yes, I know Astrud Gilberto was actually going to Brazil but hey, I couldn’t find a better song!).
The big adventure was about to start…
… and it started soon enough, because in the Lounge of Air France the first person I bumped into was the adorable French actress Emmanuelle Riva, who received a Zazie d’Or on Thursday and a César on Friday (and maybe she was about to win an Oscar on Sunday!).
I still had in my hears her wonderful words from the César ceremony (sorry guys, I wasn’t able to find them on the net to be put in this post) and I could still see her smiling, in a beautiful red Lanvin dress, with her lovely eyes looking into the audience. If you can tell me where I could sign to get old like this, I immediately do it (this fabulous Lady is aged 86):

Once arrived in Los Angeles, I started freaking out about my appearance.
Of course, now that I have solved the problem of getting there, the new step was: in which conditions can I arrive at the ceremony? I imagined all these beautiful, gorgeous actresses getting ready for the Oscars since at least two months in advance, with a multitude of hair-dressers, make-up artists, stylists and personal trainers around them.
How can I possibly compete? – I ask myself.
In fact, I couldn’t.
I didn’t even have time, before leaving, of having a face massage, or a quick plastic surgery, but I knew one thing: I wanted a bright, shining, impeccable manicure and pedicure.
I was staying in Culver City and on Sunday morning, after a good night rest (thanks, sleeping pills kindly provided by my mum!), I was ready to go to the prestigious appointment that my hotel booked for me in a beauty salon around the corner. 

I don’t know exactly what kind of glamorous place I had in mind that day, but one thing was for sure: it wasn’t the beauty salon I was stepping in (I think in Barbès-Rochechouart I could have found nicer places… the Parisians will understand what I’m talking about here!).
Well, it was too late to change my mind and so I bravely ventured into the salon and said I had an appointment (unfortunately). It was then that I realized I had a new, worrying problem: understanding the women working at the salon. They were four Chinese women talking with a strong whateverchinesecity accent and I couldn’t understand a single word. Before entering, I was fantasising about asking an advise on the colour I should use, but clearly enough they couldn’t have a clue, so I chosen a dark grey and they looked at me in disbelief: are you suuuuuuure? 

I wasn’t sure of anything, at that stage, not even of my name, but I strongly assure them that yes, that was the colour I wanted. And just when I thought the worst was over, a new drama was about to happen: the woman making the manicure and the one making the pedicure (contemporarily) didn’t agree on each other methods, and they spent the whole time yelling in Chinese (very bad words, I'm telling you!). 

After 1 hour that looked like 1 geological era to me, I was ready to leave the place. Just one minor concern: will my shoes ruin the nail polish on my feet? Oh, no, not AT ALL! Said one of the two contenders to Top Esthetician… while the other one reinforced: and the manicure will last two full weeks!
And off I went, towards the hotel. 

Useless to say: my feet were a DISASTER and the nail polish on my hands lasted JUST a couple of days.

Oscars, here I come!!!