The Formosa café in Hollywood. Photograph: www.formosacafe.com
Where to start this week?
Unlike the Golden Globes press conference, life is anything but dull. My new best friend and fellow film-maker Tanya and I stopped off at a Hollywood landmark, The Formosa café for some sustenance before seeing some stand up comedy. I know it's a landmark because there's a sign outside that says so.
Inside, the bar is cloaked in darkness, the walls are lined with pictures of Hollywood greats and the lobster mac and cheese is to die for. It's just the right side of seedy. You probably caught a glimpse of it in the film LA Confidential (well, only if they turned the lights up). We left when we realised that every booth was filled with women. Scary.
I still get a kick from driving around Hollywood at night. It's like being in your own personal movie. Melrose is one of my favourites. It's boutique, with trendy bars and vintage clothes shops. After the show, which was surprisingly funny, we hung out with a few of the comics at The Bungalow on Melrose. From the outside it screamed "trendy joint, duffers over 30 do not enter!" but as I walked in Don't Stop Believin' by Journey was playing. Nothing says, "Anyone can enter here", like 80s power rock. Ask anyone in LA, and they will tell you that "Journey are the shit!" and wave their hands in the air like something out of Wayne's World. Again, scary.
I had some unexpected good news. One of my film's editors, Tony Anderson, put Maconie's List into the Sony short film competition on crackle.com. To date we've had almost 9,000 views, which is amazing and makes me smile every time I think of so many people watching my little movie.
But that's not the good news. Yesterday, I had an email informing me that the film was one of the ten finalists; winners get $10,000 and a pitch meeting with Sony. So I'm crossing everything that I win. Ok, not exactly everything but stuff that doesn't hurt to cross.
Meanwhile life goes on and I met up with "top Hollywood stylist" Jessica Paster at her home in the valley. She puts clothes on Eva Longoria's back, amongst others. In fact, whilst at her house, I touched a Marc Jacobs dress that is soon to be worn by Hilary Duff. There are people who would pay through the nose for that kind of celebrity couture experience.
Jessica is LA-born and bred and lives with her two dogs, Chico and Peanut, in one of those LA villas that spawn lemon and orange trees like hairs on an old lady's chin. She was having a relatively quiet week (although phones didn't stop ringing while I was there) because the Globes were off.
The writers' strike is still hugely supported but it's now having very visible knock-on effect. I heard about two more redundancies in the industry again this week - friends of friends, i.e. people who don't take home $50,000 a week for appearing on Grey's but the ones who produce, co-ordinate, design and cater. Again, scary.
Opinion seems to be swaying towards a resolution before the Oscars, as no-one wants to sit through that kind of dry old Globes coverage again. I hadn't heard of Jessica Paster before this week but without her innate shopping skills and eye for an accessory, the awards ceremonies will continue to be as painful as a biopic of the life and times of Journey. Cross everything. And don't stop believing.
