Category: Story

“And that’s my story.”

With a dramatic flourish and certain finality, dowagers Helen O’Malley and Bow Ross finish the dish.
— Ladies’ Luncheon at Abraham & Strauss, Brooklyn, New York, circa 1957

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Fashion Fabula: Interview with Hollywood Wardrobe Stylist Houston Sams

by Katharine E. Monahan Huntley

C. Houston Sams is from Texas (San Antonio) — but she is no relation to famous fellow Texan Sam Houston. The “C” stands for Charlene. As is in Dallas’s Charlene Tilton. Although both blonde, there is no confusing J.R. Ewing’s baby sister’s baby doll persona with the prep school punk rock fashion plate whose cool client list ranged from the commercial to the cult. Celebrities (Quentin Tarantino, Tracy Lords), musicians (Tenacious D, Midget Handjob), and magazines Spin, Nylon, Blender, Premiere, Hollywood Life, Bikini Ray Gun . . .

 When did you first become interested in fashion?

Houston: At thirteen I took my first trip to Dallas. It was there I came across a vintage boutique. I thought, “How cool are these clothes.” It was 1980, and I didn’t care for contemporary trends — I liked the 50s styles. Vintage opened up a new world for me. I started making stuff. Sewing and creating. The dilemma was — I didn’t have anywhere to wear my new wardrobe.

Fast forward 8 years. Houston and her retro wardrobe go to Hollywood.

Houston: I started taking classes at UCLA and with that, raking up debt. That got old fast. I had to get a real job. I had nothing to wear for interviews but my 50s and 60s apparel. I answered an ad in the Recycler: “Actress needs assistant.” I put on my “Marilyn Suit” — a baby blue fitted three quarter length sleeve jacket and a pencil skirt. Platinum blonde bobbed hair. As fate would have it, the actress was this redheaded woman, Susan Bernard, the daughter of Bruno Bernard: “Bernard of Hollywood.” He was the glamour photographer for, among others, Sophia Loren, Jayne Mansfield, and, of course, Marilyn Monroe.

WBTL: You were in costume for the job.

Houston: Her son is Joshua Miller, one of kids in Rivers Edge.

Rivers Edge, a seminal independent film, is almost as terrifying as Joshua Miller’s father Jason Miller’s film, The Exorcist, in which he plays Father Damien Karras.

Houston: I would help Susan market the photos. Read the “Breakdown” for Joshua, a daily paraphrased list of auditions for roles agents are preparing to cast. You can identify what character types they are looking for and choose what roles might work for a particular actor. All the major talent agencies get it. . . . Around Halloween I was telling Joshua about my costume: a she-devil on wheels. I explained, ‘You know—like Russ Meyers’ films?’ He exclaimed, “What? Mom was in the Russ Meyers’ Faster Pussycat Kill Kill.”

“A cornerstone of both camp and punk cultures —no mean feat — Faster Pussycat Kill! Kill! (1966) shows the thrillingly lethal consequences when aggravated go-go dancers get bored. Russ Meyer’s black-and-white desert Gothic melodrama — for some viewers the crown jewel in a flashy career . . .” (Morris, Bright Lights Film Journal).

Houston: She came to my party in Hollywood, and all my friends were asking for her autograph. After working with her for a year and a half, I was inspired by the images . . . I needed to go do that — take photos and learn more of the technical aspects of my trade. Including plain old sewing.

After all this I met a girl at a party and she was wearing the coolest thing. She was a costume designer. I asked her about it, and she introduced me to Louise Mingenbach (The Usual Suspects, X-Men, X2, Starsky & Hutch). Up until that point, movies had never occurred to me . . .

The fashion fabulist will eventually return with the entire story, including tales of how working with Melanie Griffiths is not Another Day in Paradise — but how working From Dusk Till Dawn with Roberto Rodriguez is, anecdotes about Judith Frankland, Dogtown and Z-boys, The Gettys, Pleasant Gheman, and just what exactly it is a wardrobe stylist does.

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Pools Rule Cuz Tricks Are For Kids: Dogtown and Z-Boyz

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

“It was dirty. It was filthy. It was paradise.” — Skip Engblom

Dogtown and Z-Boys is a bittersweet reflection on a seminal time for skateboarding, when artistry and skill created legends—predecessors to Tony Hawk and the video game aesthetic. Winner of the Sundance 2001 Documentary Directing Award and the 2002 IFP/West Independent Spirit Award for Best Documentary (among other honors), the film chronicles Santa Monica pioneer skateboarding punks in the mid 70s with X-treme eloquence. Director and screenwriter Stacy Peralta, one of the original Z-Boys, relays the renegade religion in a particular geographic and historical context. Co-screenwriter Craig Stecyk’s spectacular photos and footage give the documentary its poetry in motion.

What truly compels is the exuberant gang of juvenile daredevils known as the Zephyr Team. Anonymous and abandoned, these outcast hellions became high style outlaw skaters—banded together by Jeff Ho (Does Your Shaper Surf?) and Skip Engblom, partners in Jeff Ho’s Surfboards and Zephyr Productions. Endless practice and exhilarating performance led to competitions and the inevitable commercialization of the sport. Cash in hand, corporate America became the new parental influence for the Z-Boys. Ho and Engblom faded into the kind of obscurity where myths originate.

As one of the focal points of the story, Peralta is not quite objective. Yet as a collagist he adroitly leads us through the creation of “the birth of the now” with a realistic take on what happened was . . . Set to the heat of the rock n’ roll beat, the audience is awestruck as these skateboarding zealots sideways slide in and out of empty pools and fly over the asphalt streets “where the debris meets the sea.”

Youth is callow and fame does fleet and, for the most part, the Z-Boys put on the brakes and moved on from Dogtown. The poignant exception is Jay Adams—the Z-Boys’ “chosen one.” Celebrated in the film for his gift from the gods, twenty-five years later he is interviewed while incarcerated.

A Peter Pan lost boy — foundering in memories of paradise lost.

Postscript:

Two documentaries from Jim Boyd’s NoDance Film Festival (2003) expand the SoCal state of mind: Dana Brown’s most excellent surf doc Step into Liquid visually enlightens us to why: “Surfing is not a matter of life and death, it’s more important than that,” and Brad Bemis’ Venice: Lost and Found embellishes on Albert Kinney’s Venetian dream, Venice Beach, California—”a tidal pool, a distillation of the greater metropolis” that is Los Angeles. Featured interviews with Dennis Hopper, Gregory Hines, The Doors‘Ray Manzarek, cameo by Dogtown and Z-Boys‘ Skip Engblom.


 Riding Giants: As he did with skate boarding in Dogtown and Z-Boys, Stacy Peralta places big wave riding in historical and cultural context — and examines its allure, best illuminated by Greg Noll, a surf forefather, with his romantic relationship with the surf siren: “I looked out; I think she winked at me.”

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L.A. Lore: Laurel Canyon and Wonderland Film Reviews

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Lisa Cholodenko’s cinematic choices intrigue: in High Art her focus is on Syd, a self-conscious, apple-cheeked assistant editor for “Frame” magazine who chances upon reclusive photographer Lucy Berliner (a suggestion of Nan Goldin), all heroin chic and Sapphic slouch. A love curious story set against the New York world of art, intellect, and pretense.

Laurel Canyon is a snapshot of the ramshackle charm of Los Angeles’ hippy dippy enclave. Cholodenko revisits the themes of lures and morals; a first-class cast and crew (go Cory Geryak!) are on board for the trip. Christian Bale plays priggish Sam, the only child of legendary record producer Jane (the rad Frances McDormand in an ironic about-face from her Almost Famous mother role). He is to begin his medical residency at a prestigious psych hospital, and, with uptight Ph.D. candidate fiancée Alex (Kate Beckinsale), moves from the puritanical East Coast to his mother’s bitchin’ Laurel Canyon home.

From an Ivy Tower to the Tower of Babel.

Despite a Harvard degree, Sam can’t seem to recognize the classic mother/son angst that underlies his hostility. Hmmm. He also experiences internal conflict with his attraction towards 2nd year resident babe, Sara (Natascha McElhone). Alex is immediately distracted from finishing her dissertation, drawn to the charismatic, chain-smoking bleach-streaked Jane, and the continual “minstrel show” led by Jane’s British bad boy Ian (Alessandro Nivola). Sam and Alex and Sam and Jane’s issues escalate at an infamous Hollywood Hills hotel, where, as Harry Cohn once remarked: “If you must get in trouble, do it at the Chateau Marmont.”

The look of Laurel Canyon is cool, however, the location is wasted. Cholodenko fails us with a trite story told with too obvious codes (prior to showing up at Jane’s door, the uneasy couple play Scrabble with the tiles spelling out the words “sweaty” and “queasy”), and dithering between which relationship to properly develop—much more captivating would have been a clear exploration of Sam and Jane’s relationship (particularly emphasizing Jane’s backstory), and a linking of Laurel Canyon lore.

Alex’s take on Jane: “She’s a little odd. Her presentation’s a little odd. But I think she means well” can be applied to Cholodenko.

And that’s why I look forward to her next cinematic outing. (Update: The episodes LC directed from Unbelievable and The Girl from Plainview served.)

Laurel Canyon is Lisa Cholodenko’s idea of what life must have been like for Joni Mitchell and the “Ladies of the Canyon.” Director James Cox’s Wonderland, based upon a true Los Angeles crime and shot coked-up kaleidoscope style, proves yet again, there is no honor among thieves. Relayed through a miasma of cigarette smoke and sleaze, the strung out story of porn legend John Holmes (Val Kilmer) and nightclub impresario Eddie Nash (Eric Bogosian) is a dark chapter in L.A.’s boogie nights that transfixes. The film’s feeling of authenticity comes from screenwriter Todd Samovitz’ (“Every stage of making a movie is a rewrite”) years of intensive research. His original version of the screenplay was more of an homage to the noir classic Double Indemnity. Main character John Holmes was the focus of the story and the audience was to see everything through his eyes, as opposed to the Rashomon structure Cox ultimately chose.

The two women in Holmes’ life—and consultants on the film—wife Sharon Holmes and girlfriend Dawn Schiller, played by Lisa Kudrow and Kate Bosworth (a cross between Brunette Breck Girl and trailer park trash) lend a touch of veracity as well.

The rest of the cast is impeccable, among them: party tart Paris Hilton plays a Barbie doll; The Practice‘ Bobby (Dylan McDermott) is virtually unrecognizable as a biker.

The Laurel Canyon Country Store is referenced as the local spot for drug deals—the same store Jim Morrison (played by Val Kilmer in Oliver Stone’s The Doors) wrote about in “Love Street.”

“I see you live on Love Street. /There’s this store where the creatures meet. /I wonder what they do in there . . .”

L.A. Hear/Say: The Laurel Canyon Country Store bottom floor is where The Cat and Fiddle—-the pub for English expatriates who found themselves in the Hollywood Hills—was situated before it relocated to Sunset Boulevard. In real life another English pub—Ye Coach and Horses on Sunset Boulevard—is where, in the past, actors have been known to buy their rock.

Wonderland flies high where Laurel Canyon falls short: Cox, et al understand that the best L.A. stories are not just set in L.A.—they are also intrinsic to the canyons, hills, and boulevards of its inevitable broken dreams.


Note: WGA credit given to James Cox, Captain Mauzner, Todd Samovitz, and D. Loriston Scott. Per a conversation with writer Todd Samovitz at the “Lies Told and Laws Broken” Writers Boot Camp Sundance Eye Opener panel, arbitration for writing credit is another avenue a dream might reel upon and crack—with no quick fix to mend it.

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When He Pours, He Reigns: Why I Love the Movie Cocktail

by Leigh Godfrey

In the 1980s, Tom Cruise made his career out of playing a certain type of character. The hot shot—the ambitious young man who rises from obscurity, gains a modicum of fame in his chosen profession, suffers hardship, and finally overcomes all obstacles to become a success. While I enjoy all of his films in this particular oeuvre (Risky Business, Top Gun, Days of Thunder), my absolute favorite has to be Cocktail.

Not just a movie about bartenders, this film rises above the confines of its genre to give a detailed portrayal of a man who dreams of being rich and successful, but must struggle, not only with himself, but against amoral individuals who prey upon his own fears to keep him down. After finally confronting his demons he triumphs, taking a different path to the one he initially supposed he would travel, but ultimately emerging successful and happy.

I’m not kidding, I swear.

Act One: “The Rise and Fall” or “Make Mine a Pink Squirrel.”

In Cocktail, Tom Cruise plays Brian Flanagan, a nice Irish boy from some backwater town who, after “serving his country” (this is never fully explained, but one can assume he was in the Army reserves or something as no war was being waged in 1988 as far as I know) heads off to New York to make it big in the financial world. A visit and pep talk with stereotypical Irishman Uncle Pat (he owns a bar!) lays out the whole film for the viewer:

Uncle Pat: “What are you going to do?”
Tom: “Make a million.”
Uncle Pat (laughs): “In the meantime, I’ll get McDougall to offer you a job.”
Tom (incredulous): “No way!”
Uncle Pat: “It was good enough for your old man . . . he supported a family on that job, just like you’re gonna have to do.”
Tom: “Not me, I’m not falling into that trap.”
Uncle Pat: “Everyone wakes up and finds themselves married with kids someday. It’s like most things in life, good or bad, it just kind of happens to you.”
Tom: “Well, I’m gonna make things happen for me.”

Tom then goes on to discuss the finer points of making a million with savvy old Uncle Pat, who gives him his first piece of valuable advice in a conversation that might have come from a pitch meeting for the reality series Survivor:

Uncle Pat: “You outwork, out-scheme, out-think, and outmaneuver. You make no friends, you trust nobody. And you make damn sure you’re the smartest guy in the room whenever the subject of money comes up.”
Tom: “I don’t know Uncle Pat. It doesn’t sound like very much fun to me.”
Uncle Pat: “Fun? You want fun go play at the beach.”
Tom: “I think I’ll try the city first.”

So he hits the Big Apple, and in a poetic montage poor Tom has the doors of many institutes of high finance slammed in his face. Although he seemed dead set against the working class life mere moments before, he spies a “Help Wanted” sign in a local bar and wanders in. There he is set upon by a madly ranting Doug Coughlin (Bryan Brown), who proceeds to bitch-slap Tom into uncovering his true bartender self. He does this by issuing a number of “Coughlin’s Laws.” “Anything else is always something better” and “Beer is for breakfast,” being some of the many fine bon mots this aging lothario throws around. Seeing that Tom has no hope of being Charlie Sheen in Wall Street, Doug offers him a job.

Tom’s first night working in the bar is a nightmare. He is dropping bottles and can’t remember anyone’s order. What’s in a Pink Squirrel? Who ordered the Velvet Hammer? (Here I would like to posit that no one could expect any bartender to know how to make a Pink Squirrel or a Velvet Hammer, both of which feature crème de cacao and cream as ingredients and sound like something a 70 year-old woman might sip as a digestive.) The customers are frustrated. The waitresses are frustrated. Tom is frustrated. Being a stockbroker must be better than this, he thinks. But the next day he can barely keep his eyes open in class.

Aha, you may see where this is going.

Cut to another montage of Tom learning the tricks of the bartending trade and lip-synching to some rockin’ songs along with his mentor. Tom gets the hang of bartending and finds business school less than compelling. Doug is no help, as he bullies poor Tom into subverting his dream of striking it rich via a bar franchise, into being head bartender at the hottest nightclub in town.

Tom still blindly clings to his dream of ruling the world, although his hopes are now pinned to a feeble childish drawing of a stick figure standing on top of a circle enclosing the words “Cocktails and Dreams.” How pathetic is that?

Remember this drawing, as it will be the centerpiece of a later revelatory moment.

So, as another rung on the ladder to his dreams, Tom dons a striped shirt and joins Doug as the crazy bartending duo of the 80s excess nightclub “Cell Block.” Here is where I’d like to point out one reason why I love the movie Cocktail so much. Although it is called “Cocktail” you see Tom and Doug make six drinks between them the whole movie, and the only recognizable drink I saw either one of them pour was a Campari and soda—and I only know of one person who admits to drinking that. The rest of the time is spent tossing around cocktail shakers and bottles of booze and Tom standing up on the bar reciting pearls of wisdom in the form of “poems.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but where I’m from, if a bartender wastes my time by performing stupid carafe acrobatics then I’m pissed off, he gets no tip, and I never return to this bar again. But in this movie the bar is packed every night with hundreds of admiring, big-tipping, if rather thirsty, patrons and women who fall all over themselves and can’t get enough of these two bards of the bar.

Gina Gershon is one of these women. Gina plays Coral, a photographer with whom Tom shares a few sweaty lustful nights and decides he’s in love. In love enough to break up with his boyfriend Doug when he finds out Doug has also bagged the lovely Coral (only to teach Tom a lesson, of course). Their break up is a very dramatic scene that is played out behind the bar, with Doug brandishing a broken bottle of Jack Daniels at Tom’s throat as Tom shouts: “You wanna cut me?”

After living through this kind of melodrama, Tom decides New York is too fast-paced for him, so, as foreshadowed in his earlier conversation with Uncle Pat, he goes to the beach, which in this case means he heads down to Jamaica accompanied by the strains of that Beach Boys hit “Kokomo” featuring John Stamos on bongos! Here is where the story really picks up steam.

We have now entered the second act of this little morality play, “The Turning Point,” or what I like to call “Tom realizes the love of a good woman may almost be as satisfying as a banana daiquiri.”So here we are in Jamaica. It seems like it must be a week later, but we find out that Tom has been down in this tropical paradise for three years (!) Tom is tanned and relaxed. He wears flowered shirts and has learned how to use a blender. And one afternoon while mixing up some fruity rum drinks, Jordan Mooney (Elisabeth Shue) elbows her way up to the bar as only a true damsel in distress can do.

“My friend just passed out, do you have a phone?” she says. Instead of pointing her to the nearest phone kiosk, Tom jumps over the bar and runs to the beach to investigate the situation. Apparently, he’s under the mistaken impression that mixologist is a special branch of the medical field. Jordan informs him that her friend has been drinking champagne in the sun. So instead of rushing the girl off to a hospital or checking her pulse or even loosening her bathing suit, Tom pauses to utter what has to be one of the greatest/lamest lines ever said in a movie: “Champagne. Perfume going in, sewage coming out.”

If that’s not enough to love the movie Cocktail then, really, what is?But there’s more. Jordan and Tom make cow eyes at each other and the next thing you know, they are having a full-on Jamaican tourist board affair montage, set to a reggae version of “Run For the Shelter of Your Love.” They ride horses on the beach, they dance with locals in the street, they make love under a waterfall. Ooh, so romantic! It doesn’t matter to Tom that she’s a poor waitress cum artist and can do nothing for his career. He lives in Jamaica now, mon. He shares with her his dreams of becoming a millionaire and she coos and says supportive things like: “Your flugelbinder is out there waiting to be discovered.” It must be true love!

But then wouldn’t you know it, Tom’s ex-boyfriend Doug shows up to ruin the party. On his honeymoon and toting his foxy rich wife Kerry (played by Kelly Lynch in Bo Derek mode) Doug immediately begins to lay into Tom, actually accusing him of taking pride in his work! While the bartender badinage flies fast and furious, Doug makes Tom feel ashamed not only for being a good bartender, but for being so into dull old Jordan and not even attempting to land a rich hottie like Doug has successfully done. So when Doug wagers that Tom can’t score with wealthy older woman Bonnie, Tom forgets all about Jordan and moves in for the kill. Poor Jordan! She sees the whole horrid display of manliness and runs back to New York, licking her wounds. Tom feels some slight remorse, but its nothing a few blowjobs from Bonnie can’t cure, right? Wrong, as it turns out. But this shocking plot twist has gotten us back to New York, where the action really starts to pick up in act three, “The Revelation,” or “Be careful what you wish for and always listen to Uncle Pat.”

So, Tom is a kept man now, and Bonnie is aerobicizing and drinking carrot juice and keeping poor Tom on a leash that’s so short he can barely sneak away for few stalker moments to look in the window of the restaurant where Jordan works. After a drunken display at an art gallery, Tom and Bonnie call it quits for good and Tom tries to patch things up with Jordan. But she is upset and pregnant! And, even more shocking, rich!In an effort to throw her off from the fact that he has no intention of being there for her or the baby, Tom accuses Jordan of hiding her wealth. After all, if he’d known, things might have turned out differently. But this ploy backfires, as Jordan chokes out: “I knew if I told you my family had money, then I’d never know how you felt about me . . . ME!” Uh oh, she had his number. Tom has really gotten into it now. He didn’t make his millions, he’s not successful, and now (just as Uncle Pat predicted) he’s found himself responsible for a girl and a kid. What the heck happened? He can only turn back to his old mentor Doug for some advice. But things have gone horribly wrong for the master bartender. Although it seems like all of his dreams have come true—married to a millionairess, opening his own lavish nightclub, owns his own boat—it turns out that Doug is in fact suffering from deep depression, and has blown all of his money!

Doug confides that Tom was right all along, and that all of his posturing was to cover up the fact that he didn’t know shit. This throws poor Tom for a loop since he has been harboring love and admiration for Doug since day one. But instead of getting him to a mental health clinic, Tom leaves Doug to drink alone so he can drive Kerry home, only to have her make a move on him. Shouting: “I can’t make it with my best friend’s old lady” Tom leaves and goes back to find said best friend to tell him it will all be okay. But Doug has seen the writing on the wall and slit his own throat with the broken shards of a $500 bottle of brandy. Oh the irony! Tom has a true Oscar moment here when he puts his hands in Doug’s blood and then screams: “Somebody help me!”Whew! Don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t a heavy movie.

Now Tom is like a ship at sea. He has nothing. No rich lady to bankroll him, no job, no boyfriend or mentor, and Jordan has moved back home with her wealthy folks and won’t even see him. But after tearfully reading Doug’s suicide note (thoughtfully forwarded by Kerry and featuring this charming and final Coughlin’s Law: “Bury the dead, they stink up the joint”) Tom glances up at the sad image of “Cocktails and Dreams” sketched out by Doug back in the good old days and he is determined to not let the dream die.

After liberating Jordan from her Park Avenue penthouse and marrying her, we see Tom a few months later as the proprietor of his own bar. That’s right, it’s Flanagan’s Cocktails and Dreams. And Jordan’s pregnant with twins—all’s right with the world. And so the happy ending, which I admit was a long time coming, but really, didn’t Tom deserve it? He grew as a person and realized that following in his father’s footsteps, and being a working-class Joe with a wife and two kids, is better than having a million dollars.

This movie teaches us that style is not a substitute for substance, greed is not good and if you have sex under a waterfall in Jamaica you will get pregnant. These are all good morals to be fed while watching a movie about bartenders. And that’s why I love the movie Cocktail. I give it four stars and three Pink Squirrels. Drink up!
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Trumpet of the Swan: Short Story Review: Miriam

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Almost a decade before Truman Capote introduced Holly Golightly to literary society, he created eerie Miriam, the titular character in a short story published in A Tree of Night and Other Stories, 1949:

“Her long hair was the longest and strangest Mrs. Miller had ever seen: absolutely silver-white, like an albino’s. It flowed waist-length in smooth, loose lines. She was thin and fragiley constructed. There was a special elegance in the way she stood with her thumbs in the pockets if a tailored plum-velvet coat. . . . She touched a paper rose in a vase on the coffee table. “Imitation,” she commented wanly. “How sad. Aren’t imitations sad?”

Next to Truman Capote’s unique writings, imitations can only pale.

Click on the link to view: “La Côte Basque, 1965”

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Brace Yourself: Interview with a Thirteen Year Old California Girl

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

“Elvira: ‘You are really lucky not to have a mother . . . the questions she asks! Morning, noon, and night. Where are you going, and who have you met? And are they cousins of somebody else of the same name in Yorkshire? I mean, the futility of it all.’

Bridget: ‘I suppose they have nothing else to think about.'”—At Bertram’s Hotel by Agatha Christie © 1963

Thirteen-year-old Nichole Alexandra Lopez’s braces are pink. Far from shy, she laughs when boys get red, yet if she witnesses peers making fun of geeks, she says: “Omigod, don’t.” As we chat in a local bowling alley / arcade where she is babysitting little sister Jacque, the junior high student alternates between touching up her flawless face, flipping back her highlighted hair, and rolling her twin glims at any mention of the parental units’ rules and regulations. We are both wearing identical sterling silver hoop earrings. I ask to borrow her Clinique.

Nichole: Which one?
Several Clinique products appear from out of her black Volcom purse: pressed powder, lip gloss, make-up brush.

Nichole: I learned how to put on make-up from my cousin, Amanda. She’s sixteen.

WBTL: Where do you clothes shop?

Nichole: Abercrombie, Billabong, Forever 21.

WBTL: Or, as I like to call it—For Over 21.

“For Safety, Swim in Supervised Area.”
Nichole is wearing an Encinitas Junior Lifeguard tee that drops to her knees, flared size 0 jeans, and sneaks.

WBTL: Why is your shirt so long?

Nichole: My dad made me wear it.

WBTL: What about at school? Doesn’t everyone change clothes? I remember keeping an extra set in my locker.

Nichole laughs and pleads the fifth.

WBTL: Entertainment?

Nichole: Music, TV. Like, mostly MTV. America’s Funniest Home Videos. Fear Factor.

Jacque: Courage the Cowardly Dog.

Nichole: There you go. Cartoon Network.

WBTL: Music?

Nicole: Snoop Dog. Ludacris — “Stand-Up,” Lil Jon, & the East Side Boyz’ “Get Low” is my favorite song of all time. Right now 50 Cent is in my CD player. Ever heard of Chingy?

I laugh and plead lack of hip.

WBTL: You’ve always attended private schools. This year’s your first in a public. What’s it like?

Nichole: You learn more about the outside world, like . . . like fights and cussing out people. Not as much attention to academics. Sometimes I mess around with my friends and forget to do homework. More people to choose from. More talking about guys. Yeah, and people asking you to ditch school.

WBTL: To go where?

Nichole: Starbucks.

Nicole’s mother inserts an anecdote about her daughter:
“On Thursdays, Nicole’s school starts at 9:00 o’clock instead of its usual time of 8:00. I drop her off at a church where she is supposed to stay until 8:30 and then she is to walk directly over to school. One Thursday I was sick. I brought her to the church then went to Rite Aid for my prescription. Afterwards, I drove by the church and saw her running out the door with her girlfriends. Naturally, I decided to see where she was going. First, they went into donut shop. Then as they walked back, her friends took a turn towards Starbucks. Nicole hesitated for a moment, and then went on to school. The next Thursday I gave her extra money, and said ‘why don’t get a couple extra donuts today?’ She looked at me, shocked.”

Nichole, of course, is savvy enough to know answering certain questions will only lead to more questions — the bane of any teenager worth her mad text messaging skillz.

As we continue the interview, Nichole pretends to ignore the two sixteen-year-old boys watching her.

Nichole: That’s Kort and his friend. He walks here all the way from school. I don’t know why.

WBTL: Oh, I know why.

Nichole: Their numbers are really high up there.

WBTL: How many people go to your school?

Nichole: There are about 1500 in the 7th and 8th grades. At one point traffic came to a standstill in the halls. I know a lot of people. A group of us eat lunch in the amphitheater. One of my friends went up to this guy and said “Omigod, you like Nichole, right?” And he’s like, “Yeah, okay, now go away.”

WBTL: Have your heard about the movie Thirteen?

Nichole: I know about it. It makes you think about drugs and how you react to that. You think about friendship and how you have to stop that. I would tell . . . I would probably say no. I don’t need to show off or copy.

WBTL: Your parents are strict. Do you wish the situation were different?

Nichole: Yeah . . . like, I’d like to at least go out to the mall by myself—with my friends. [Sigh] Maybe when I’m sixteen.

WBTL: Jacque is seven. What advice will you give her when she’s thirteen?

Nichole: Don’t follow your friends.

WBTL: Do you think she will?

Nichole: Yeah. She’s already doing it.

Nichole and Jacque jump onto Dance Dance Revolution Extreme to the tune of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” executing the steps gracefully, and in sync.

Swimming Pool “I was thirteen the first time. I haven’t stopped since,” is the insouciant line mystery writer Charlotte Rampling’s publisher’s daughter drops in this sensual thriller. Wade in, this isn’t your mother’s Agatha Christie.
 
Thirteen Director/writer Catherine Hardwicke and her teen-aged co-writer Nicki Reed present a modern day Go Ask Alice with this high wire act between self-esteem and the ages of 11, 12, and 13.