Thursday, September 10, 2015

Hanging with Mr. Cooper: A Labor of Doves

Dress: J. C. Penney's
Cardigan: Gifted
Shoes: J. C. Penney's
Bag: Nine West, Boscov's
Belt: Marshalls
Sunglasses: Kohl's

Dress: J. C. Penney's
Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW
Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's
Sunglasses: J. C. Penney's

Tee: Macy's
Tank: J. C. Penney's
Skirt: Macy's
Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless
Bag: Glamour Damaged, Etsy
Belt: Izod, Marshalls
Sunglasses: Candie's, Kohl's

Dress: Modcloth
Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, DSW
Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's
Belt: Candie's, Kohl's
Sunglasses: Candie's, Kohl's

The husband and I were taking a walk last Saturday night, killing time until our crab cakes were ready, when some guy driving by in an SUV yelled, "I just saw Bradley Cooper in _______ (insert name of local supermarket chain)!"  Which was, of course, far better than most things yelled out of car windows.  The husband and I looked at each other.  I'm ashamed to admit that we considered making a beeline for said supermarket.  Never mind that I'd been there just hours before.  I was caught up in the excitement of it all, imagining what I would say.  I could ask him about the highly anticipated, yet still-unseen-by-me "Wet Hot American Summer" Netflix series hijinks.  Also, how he felt about Keegan-Michael Key wearing that Silver Linings Playbook-style trash bag on USA's "Playing House."  (The husband, ever the envelope pusher, wanted to bring up his villainous turn in Wedding Crashers.)  Yet as I mentioned, we were waiting for crab cakes.  We walked on.

But that didn't mean we stopped talking about it.  I had a hard time picturing Bradley trolling the aisles of our little store.  Not just because he'd been nominated for three Oscars.  But because of the cottage cheese-soft cucumbers and eat-at-your-own-risk chicken.  Most of the time I couldn't believe I shopped there let alone this (albeit affable) A-lister.  Heck knows that if I had a handler, I'd send him in for the cheese wheels and fruit snacks.  I guess that's where Bradley and I differ.

Still, it was refreshing that he was out and about in Brigantine sans posse.  Turns out he was here visiting his mom who, according to The Press of Atlantic City, has a house on the island (which makes sense, as she hails from Philly).  I thought it was nice that he was hanging with his mom and going about his business normally (celebrities, they're just like us!), so much so that I debated whether or not I should even write this. After all, it's not as if I saw him, otherwise engaged as I was with fried shellfish.

But a celebrity siting is a celebrity siting, even if experienced secondhand.  And this stretch of beach is as good a spot as any.

Ah, Brigantine.  In the summer it's crowded, in the winter it's isolated, and, from a renter's perspective, it's always just a little unreal, as transient as the strict Memorial Day-to-Labor Day operating hours of the corner Rita's.  But it's also magical, a seedling city in a quaint, small-town (sea)shell.  Sweet and savory treats are just a short walk away, and you never know who you'll run into.

The more I think about it, I'm glad I let Mr. Cooper sniff his chicken in peace.

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