I had quite the celebrity sighting yesterday. It wasn’t so excellent because of the star wattage — although, that was pretty cool —  but more for the bizarre randomness of the entire event. I’ll explain.
It was about 7 PM, and my friend Jash and I decided to stop in at Angelina’s Frozen Yogurt, one of the few fro-yo spots in Los Angeles that I can tolerate (mostly because it’s not overpriced and, more importantly, they serve flavors beyond just plain and green tea. I mean, seriously, what is up with the flavor nazis? But I digress). Anyway, as we walked into this humble shop of icy dairy goodness, I noticed an old woman off to the side receiving what appeared to be a lifetime’s supply of frozen yogurt. She seriously had so much, I thought she might be on some strange, geriatric office run. The whole thing was kind of bizarre, and I just figured she was an old coot doing some typically old coot-ish thing.
Well, I stood by the registers and waited to place my order, but of course, the server was busy tending to Miss Haversham in the corner. I looked over again, but before I saw the woman’s face, I was distracted by her ever growing collection of yogurt. She had ordered pretty much the largest size you can get, which I think was about a quart. Now, most people when they get a quart of ice cream or frozen yogurt, they usually put a lid on it and bring it home to devour over the course of a few days. This woman, however, was going to eat the whole damn thing. I could tell because the server continued to pour frozen yogurt into the container way after it had reached appropriate lid-containment levels. Yes, there was a full on fro-yo swirl at the top of this gargantuan load, but I merely shrugged it off. I’ve seen crazier things in L.A.. And besides, if this woman wants to stuff her face with fro-yo, all the power to her. There are some days when I wish I could be just like her.
Anyway, the server finally came over to me, and after I placed my not-so-healthy order (regular sized Belgian chocolate with peanut butter cup topping. Heh.), I glanced back at the dairy-lovin’ lady for no real reason. I don’ t know why I did it. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was because she was hovering generally in the peanut butter cup region. Whatever the reason, for the first time, I actually saw her face, and something suddenly clicked in me. I was staring at a legend.

Even though I could only see a profile, I recognized the face immediately. Well, maybe not immediately. My first reaction was “Gosh, that looks like Jessica Biel in fifty years.” Then I thought to myself, “Funny, I always think Jessica Biel looks like a young… OH MY.” Yes, I was staring into the (surgically enhanced) face of none other than FAYE DUNAWAY.
I couldn’t believe the skittish, old lady just three feet away was Faye Dunaway. She always seemed so… glamorous? Or at least, taller. I guess that’s always the case. Either way, I always expected her to have kind of a WASPy look about her, but instead, she looked like she’d just raided Diane Keaton’s closet. She was decked out in a strange black-and-white blouse and pants combo that was less “urban sophisticate” and more “crazy.” No, not crazy like “It’s crazy that I just saw Faye Dunaway.” More like “this is what someone who’s a little crazy would wear.” Oh, and she had a hat. Again, crazy.
As any good friend would do in such a situation, I immediately turned around and muttered to Jash, “Faye Dunaway.” This led to a minor Vaudeville routine as he said, “Who?” and I had to say through clenched teeth, “FAYE DUNAWAY.” “But where?” “OVER THERE.” And so on and so forth. Nevertheless, Jash confirmed the sighting, and subtle (or maybe not so subtle) gawking ensued. Moments later, Faye quickly shuffled out of the yogurt shop, and with the resident celebrity elephant out of the room, we could then speak freely. Jash and I asked the server if she was a regular, to which the server did the sassy head bob and said, “This is only my third day on the job, but already today I’ve seen Faye Dunaway and RuPaul.” Touché. We were one Cyndi Lauper sighting away from a full on gay pride parade in the yogurt shop.
Anyway, while we and the assembled patrons of the frozen yogurt shop discussed this, I happened to turn around, and there outside the window was Faye Dunaway approaching us again. SHE WAS COMING BACK. I told everyone to be quiet, and with just a second to spare, the yogurt shop became deathly silent as a harried Faye zipped back in to retrieve some car keys she had left on the counter. Needless to say, it was incredibly awkward.
Faye then left again, and this time for good. The sort of sad coda to all this, however, was that she then drove off in an old, white, Toyota Corolla. It just didn’t seem right. If anything, I’d expect her to drive a big-ass black Mercedes or Lexus or, I don’t know, Rolls Royce. But a Corolla? Hey, I respect a famous actress who can keep it real, but seriously, my world view is a little shattered.
In conclusion, I still give Faye Dunaway lots of respect for being a great actress. That I now know she’s a bit nutty when it comes to frozen yogurt only makes me think all the more fondly of her. I only wish I had seen Faye Dunaway placing her order. I imagine it must have gone down something like this:

I want the plain yogurt! [slap] I want the green tea yogurt! [slap] I want the plain yogurt AND the green tea yogurt!

5 replies on “Oscar Winning Screen Legend Binges on Frozen Yogurt, Drives Unimpressive Car”

  1. She will always be Bonnie Parker getting riddled with bullets in that ’34 Ford.
    Seriously – a Corolla?

  2. Hey, there is a link to your article on the Best Week Ever website/blog. But the link doesn’t work. You should send them a correct one, you would probably get some extra traffic.
    And I’m so bummed about Faye Dunaway not being super glam in real life. She always seemed so Old Hollywood to me, the last of the movie star divas.

  3. How sad. I kinda knew she would have turned out to be crazy.
    So, did they put a lid on the yogurt, or did she walk out with the huge container and a spoon?

  4. I just saw Faye Dunaway in my neighborhood in Yorkville in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She bought $103 dollars worth of stuff at the health food store and handed the guy a $50. The guy told her it was $103 and she was taken aback and said, “The stevia really jacks the price up.” She had bought $103 worth of stevia-shuffles out of the store and the health store clerk proceeds to tell me that she is the cheapest customer he has!!

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