6.02.2013

Reasons I Love My Fancy Pants Beverly Hills Lawyer

Because his pants are fancy.

I’m certain he pays more for his suits than my car would go for on Craigslist. He undoubtedly has like two hundred ties, color coded in gradating order to match his shirts, like Richard Gere in American Gigolo only originally from Sherman Oaks and holding a Yale diploma.

Because he has a secretary who likes to be called that. She’s slightly overweight and wears glasses, hose and sensible heels in a town where low-rise jeans, an exposed coin slot and a tiny hint of an attitude are de rigeur among executive assistants.

Because his office provides a selection of beverages on a tray. You get to pour your own into cut crystal glasses, plopping in some cubes of ice from a bucket with a pair of silver tongs. The tray appears to be sterling, though one can never be sure without turning it over, which would of course be tacky. My current plan is to drop a paper clip, squat down to retrieve it and look up through the glass table to read the stamp and hallmark. Not that I've given it much thought.

Because he represents any number of A-list movie stars whose names I’d like to drop at big Hollywood dinner parties. Of course I don’t go to any big Hollywood dinner parties, but boy are they impressed by my connections at the Ralph’s deli counter, where I generally dine and dish.

Because he sends me letters on super heavy stationery with a very high linen content. Heck, it might even be linen. So what if it does wrinkle easily and not wear well past Labor Day? The point is it’s engraved! With his name, a lot of other names and a fabulous address.

Because one such letter, hands down my all-time favorite, suggests it “appropriate” for the studio to pay any and all WGA dues I may or may not be behind on, above and beyond a contracted fee I would already describe as a “crapload.”

Because he scrawls pissy little notes all over my contracts that any idiot could tell you will never become even remotely relevant in my case. Possibly my favorite: “After commencement of principal photography, if ever, Writer shall receive an expense allowance of $1,750 $2,000 per week in major cities such as New York, London and Los Angeles and $1,500 $1,750 elsewhere."

Because a long time ago my dad was a fancy pants Beverly Hills lawyer. He, too, had a mahogany desk and a fountain pen. Before retiring to Ponchadilla to grow oranges, he drove the large Mercedes, ate steak for lunch and hired older secretaries openly smarter than he. Even with all the dreams I'm indulging in Hollywood, I never imagined finding another man to look out for me with Dad's brand of old school class.

14 comments:

  1. Ricardo12:53 PM

    Julie, you write so well, it makes me happy. I know that's not very elaborate, but hey it's how I felt, and how else express it? Many ways of course, but it's monday, I'm tired, and perhaps already ruined the simplicity with all the explanations. Whatever, you rock. Congratulations on everything, your fan in Venezuela. Ricardo.

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  2. Anonymous2:26 PM

    And they say you're bitter! Sweet post. However, you should never, ever mistake a lawyer for a father figure.

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  3. Julie,

    I can remember when I first found your blog, and you hadn't made it big yet. Now you are a star, and I'm proud to know ya :)

    The only experience i've had with lawyers have been in suits against me. I never wear fancy suits because I always end up spilling something on it.

    Keep up the good work!

    And if you ever need a bodyguard look me up ;)

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  4. I got excited about the expense account. And it's not even my contract.

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  5. Your dad sounds great. Kudos for finding a lawyer, or any guy in this town who measures up. Cheers to you and your new crapload, girlfriend! Please buy the weiners ridiculously expensive toys for me.

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  6. Ricardo, please take as many words as you require to tell me I rock. American girls love that.

    Anon, it seems to be working for Anna Nicole Smith.

    Morris, have you ever tried baby wipes? It's deeply frightening how well they work on even the toughest stains.

    Frank, sure looks pretty on that there fancy paper, don't she?

    Heidi, I'm giving you six months to nail a Fancy Pants of your own. Fair's fair, soul mate.

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  7. I am so happy that you are progressing through the film industry like the debutante that you are. I am even happier that such a talent gets a chance to strut her stuff on the page.

    Your star is on the rise.
    Hold on and don't let go.

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  8. The only thing better than landing this job, is having that fancy-pants lawyer to cross the T's and dot the I's for you. I'm glad you have him in your corner (I'm betting on the stamp being on the tray...)

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  9. if I ever make it out there maybe you can let me know the monogram on his socks so I can give him a ring

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  10. His stationary would be okay past Labor Day if it were winter white, or cream with a hint of texture.

    Congrats on being able to *afford* fancy pants lawyer - although, really, can you afford not to?
    I can't believe you have to get your own ice. His mama should have taught him better than that!

    This said from a secretary (oops, administrative assistant, the 'glorified' modifier optional) who is also smarter than her boss.

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  11. Julie,

    Thought I'd pass on some good news for those with a little too much time on their hands:



    Bill Martell is a Blogger, now.

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  12. So if you're getting an expense account, does that mean you're going to be on set during filming? Did you work something out in the contract to be a big part of the production? Or am I just reading that totally wrong and they just wanna give you money to travel the globe?

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  13. I'm no expert, but I highly doubt any of that will ever come to pass. It's more like if there's ever an actual movie, and if they want me around, this is what it would cost them. His other clients get to pick the color M&M's they want on the crafts table, but Fancy loves us all enough to haggle equally. Just one more reason I love him.

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