A brush with class

It’s Thursday evening. I’m at the Varadero Restaurant beside the STP Boatyard. I’m surrounded by paparazzi and we’re all waiting for the celebs to arrive on the red carpet. I say “we”,  I mean “they” because most of the celebrities attending I won’t recognise because they are German. This is German Real Estate sensation Marcel Remus’s summer party, and if your name isn’t on the list then there is no way you’re getting in. I’ve been invited because there is one celebrity attending who he thinks I will like to meet, the American actress Marcia Cross. She’s famous for her roles in Desperate Houswives and Desperate Houswives. Because she’s the best known face on the guest list she will also be the last to arrive, she’s the finale to a reasonably long line of German TV stars, fashion designers, performers and business people. Why are they all here? Because Marcel is a celeb in his own right. He’s not yet thirty but Marcel Remus has been building his own real estate empire since 2008.  He has an office here in Majorca, and another one in Germany, but that’s not how he’s become so successful. His clever use of networking at high level parties in Hollywood and his involvement in the German version of “A Place In The Sun” where he takes prospective German home buyers around spectacular Majorcan villas, fincas and apartments have meant he’s become “Mister Majorca” as far as the German public are concerned. And he’s doing very well, thank you very much for asking.

Marcel and Marcia PHOTO CREDIT OLIVER NEILSON PHOENIX MEDIA  (8)

It’s the first time I’ve been on a red carpet, it’s quite fun as I’m not taking the photos, I’m just watching. A tribe of GoGo dancers arrive, the girls are dressed as “sexy robots” and the boys are shirtless with complicated leather jewellery covering their chests. They are there to pose if need be so I get a photo with them for the hell of it. I wander around the party snaffling some special “Skin Gin” which is minty and tasty. Between the prawns on sticks, croquettes, mini calamaris in paper wraps, ice cream, and veggie wraps the flying buffet keeps me busy as well. I bump into some other English people I know and have a chat. Eventually it’s time to keep an eye on the entrance. When Marcia arrives the paps go crazy, a very determined female photographer (go girl!) leads the charge, in fact she’s at the front every time giving directions to the celebs “Everyone look at me, hey! HEY! LOOK AT ME!” She gets what she wants, it’s an interesting lesson as having the best photos is the way to get hired again.  Marcia is surrounded with TV cameras, there’s a lot of posing for photos, interviews, then posing for photos with the interviewers. She’s smiling all the way, composed, calm. Getting up close to her I can see her skin is polished smooth, wrinkle free, taut. I wonder naively if that means she’s had “work” done. I guess at some point every single actress in Hollywood has had a facial surgery, it seems inevitable to stay in the game. But then Marcia’s not bothered about the game right now, she’s got nine year old twin girls who she gave birth to when she was 45 via IVF. I eavesdrop on the various German TV crews interviewing her in English.  She repeatedly talks about her daughters and how much she is missing them despite having only arrived in Majorca less than 24 hours earlier.

The scrum PHOTO CREDIT OLIVER NEILSON PHOENIX MEDIA  (10)

I bob around the scrum, wondering how I might get my chance to ask her some questions. Then I realise I have no idea what to ask her, all the good questions have already been asked. I’ve heard all the Germans do them, and I don’t want to bore her. Maybe I think I should just not bother and use the answers I’ve heard already and give up get some more gin and relax. No Vicki, be determined, how many times do you get the chance to interview someone like this. I stick to Marcia and her minder like glue, finally I get my opportunity to request a chat. Come back in ten minutes I’m told, she needs a break.  Okay. Ten minutes to think of what to ask. I’m suddenly a bit nervous.

PHOTO CREDIT OLIVER NEILSON PHOENIX MEDIA  (7)

When I find her in the VIP area ten minutes later I have typed some questions on my phone. I am prepped and ready. I’m invited to sit down next to her, and I turn to smile at her. She smiles back. This is going to go okay I think. “Hi! How are you?” she asks me, great, I reply, you? “I’m the only English person here”, I joke. She laughs and asks me where I’m from, and why I’m in Majorca. “We’re talking about me?” I ask. “Why not?” she looks at me smiling, her eyes bright. We chat about my life on the island, I point out my husband who’s at the party shooting photos for Marcel, I tell her about our daughter. “We live in s’Arraco, it’s just down the road from a place most of these people will be very familiar with, Port Andratx. This time of year it’s wall to wall rich Germans in Porsches!” I joke. “If you don’t have a flash car then you won’t fit in”. “Oh then that’s not for me,” she says and we grin at each other conspiratorially. What a classy lady, she’s managed to make me feel relaxed, and we’re ready for some actual questions.

She’s here for the party she tells me, and to have a break. It’s her first time in Spain, but actually Majorca feels very international. It’s a magnet for Northern Europeans I tell her, we come here for the weather and the lifestyle. What are her plans for the rest of her trip? She’s going on a boat tomorrow she thinks, but she doesn’t  know where they’re going. Do go to Port Andratx I tell her, it’s a beautiful place. What is she working on at the moment? Mainly being a good parent although there are a couple of things in the pipeline she’s been involved in. I wonder what roles she would like to play which she hasn’t done yet, on the stage perhaps? She replies instantly, maybe in ten years or so she’d like to be play the character Madame Lyubov Andreievna Ranevskaya in Chekov’s The Cherry Orchard. That was the first play I ever did I exclaim, back when I was a stage manager. It’s getting really noisy in the party and we bring our heads together to hear each other. We studied it at drama school she tells me. Where did you go? Juliard. Wow, that’s a tough school to get into I reply. She nods and looks at me. I realise I’m asking more interesting questions than the Germans, I’m doing okay.

What does she think about gender equality in the arts? When I was working in theatre you could either be a stage manager, a wardrobe mistress or an ingenue, if you wanted to do something like direct or be in charge of something exciting like the explosives then you’d better be a guy. Did she think that things had changed? No, not really. She tells me about fellow actress Geena Davis who launched an institute into Gender in Media to work on increasing the presence of female characters in media and to reduce the stereotyping of female characters in the industry. But things are changing quicker now: we agree that we consume TV in a different way now. We’re both fans of Netflix. What am I watching at the moment she asks me. I’ve just devoured “Stranger Things” I tell her. “Winona Ryder plays the mum! It’s like she’s come out the other side, she was brilliant, it’s as if Winona’s finally got herself back together. You have to watch it!”. She nods and tells me that she’s just started watching The Night Manager. I tell her then that she has to get the boat to Cala Deia or go up to Pollensa to see the locations.  You can get to both of them by water.

We’re getting on so well now, Marcia is my new bff. I was going to ask you really sappy questions I tell her, like what’s your fitness routine, but I’m guessing it’s basically drink water and don’t eat anything right? I joke. She laughs at me and shakes her head, I just do what I can, she replies. We stand for a photo together, a kiss, a final “So nice to meet you” and with that I’m done. My first brush with Hollywood class, but hopefully not my last.

My new BFF PHOTO CREDIT OLIVER NEILSON PHOENIX MEDIA  (1)

Around us the music is pumping, the place is packed with happy people having a nice time. We stick around for a final gin and then hit the road. As we leave we’re handed not one, two, three but FOUR different goody bags stuffed with complimentary cosmetics, creams, oils and what not. My husband’s not had a party bag since he was six he tells me. Thanks Marcel for the invitation, I could get used to this.

2 comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s