I’ve never really liked Nicolas Cage as an actor.
I feel like he’s over the top in most of his roles, really pushing the boundaries of acting in films, because it’s almost like you’d act on stage. He’s loud, pointed, and knows he’s a character and knows the audience knows he knows he’s a character.
Also, most of his films didn’t appeal to me “back in the day” twenty years ago when it was all Face/Off, Con Air, and City of Angels.
So, of course I’ve had my most intimate celebrity encounter with him.
I was in NYC with John, shopping at our favorite store on St. Mark’s Place, Trash & Vaudeville.
It’s was total goth store, which makes sense because that was my total goth phase in life, and we made a point to go there every time we went into the city, which was frequent back when I was young, childless, and making more money at IHOP than any 22 year old should.
From street level, the store was down a set of stairs and had a low ceiling and old, creaking wood floors. The front of the store had display cases of jewelry and accessories, and then a large area with clothing before you got to the back of the store that was all shoes.
There were a lot of shoes in a very small area. The ceiling was low, remember, and the store was a fairly narrow area. There were only two chairs you could sit in to try on shoes if you wanted to sit and lace them up.
I used to love TUK Creepers, and that day I was trying on a pair that couldn’t not catch my eye. They were big, beautiful, sparkling, glittery creepers. They were actually this exact pair and photo credit to the lucky guy on Ebay who’s selling them for WAY LESS THAN I PAID:
So there I was, with John lurking around and browsing while I made my way to the one unoccupied chair to try these suckers on.
I remember being annoyed that the chairs were pressed right against each other, because there really was no more room for them. This may not have mattered hadn’t I already been getting a little chunky, but it was a big deal since the dude in the chair next to me was GINORMOUS and his body was spreading into my area.
I carried on and laced up the shoes, the whole time side-eyeing the only other woman in the room, who was petite, rail thin, looked to be of Asian descent, and was standing in the corner shoving her entire leg into a black leather boot that looked like it could go above her waist.
When I was done tying my shoes, I got up and walked around the store to see how they felt. I circled the entire place from back to front and around again before deciding that yes, they fit and I love them, and I will pay a lot of money for them.
I went back to the chair to take the Creepers off and put my shoes back on.
The Very Large Man was still in his chair when I sat down, and before I could bend to untie the Creepers he said to me:
“Rad shoes.”
I looked up at him…
And it was Nicolas Cage.
“Thanks,” I think I might have said, and I didn’t know what else to say, so I just sat there switching shoes and a minute or so later he got up and walked out with that woman, who turned out to be his wife, Alice Kim.
“OH MY GOD DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT WAS?!!?”
John whispered screamed to me, coming over and grabbing my arm hard and giving it a shake.
“Oh my God, Nick Cage just told you you have rad shoes! Are you going to buy them??”
“Of course I’m going to fucking buy them,” I probably said.
I boxed up the Creepers and brought them to the front of the store where two employees were standing near the register chatting, and one of them asked me, “Did you see who that was in here just now?”
“Yeah,” I said, “Nicolas Cage told me these were rad shoes.”
Then, the employees proceeded to make fun of him for leaving in a limousine.
“Who comes to St. Mark’s Place in a limo?” they laughed.
By the time we left the store, the limo was gone and my brief celebrity encounter had come to its end.
Sometimes when I tell this story people ask me why I didn’t ask for his autograph or a photo, and it’s an easy answer: it never crossed my mind. I think I was too stunned to say anything but thanks, which is unfortunate, because I wonder if I’ll freeze up like that during a celebrity encounter with someone I really want to get a photo with.
Luckily, we have the internet:
A simple search on Google of “nicolas cage and alice kim shopping trash and vaudeville” brought proof right before my eyes.
I must say, though, I didn’t notice a beer bottle, and it was 5pm somewhere, but not in New York.
I’ve had a fair number of celebrity encounters, but this is the only one where I can say I spoke to this person.
I once bumped (literally) into David Copperfield at Foxwoods and was almost run down by Christina Aguilera’s ho-train after a show at Mohegan Sun (living near the world’s biggest casinos is neat), and then I have a whole other story of how Richard Dreyfuss stole a cab from us in NYC a few years before, but since he was in the act of stealing a cab, there was no chit-chat.
Bastard Holland’s Opus.
Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
The other story I’m sticking to is, I suppose, more like a rumor I’m spreading, but I think Nicolas Cage may have some clones.
Haven’t you noticed he’s in, like, a dozen movies a year? How does he do this?
Something tells me that of all people, Nicolas Cage wouldn’t be the one who’s found the fountain of youth.
That was Harrison Ford.
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