The reality of red carpets

Revisiting my old stomping ground as a red carpet journalist restored my faith in humanity and reminded me what goes unseen on the red carpet

“It’s so hard to be human in these settings,” I found myself saying to an actress, clad in a black shift dress, during a pre-Oscar party over the weekend. She stopped to chat about real life — as opposed to the soundbytes I’d been sent to gather. It was refreshing, but it was also a tricky transition since I was there to talk about fashion. “It’s so nice to see you,” I told her. “But I am working. Do you want to chat?”

I hit the red button on my phone, and began recording. “This is such a weird setting,” I muttered to myself before shaking it off, and asking one of the questions I was sent: “What is this look ‘giving’ tonight?”

I’ve spent much of my writing career standing on a red carpet. I even met my husband on a red carpet. Twenty years later, and I’ll never be entirely comfortable anywhere near a red carpet. Even watching them on television still gives me anxiety.

Because looks are deceiving. Like those posing on the red carpet, I may appear cool, calm, and collected — but in actuality, it’s a battle of nerves while trying to hear your thoughts over screaming photographers.

It could also be the flashing lights. The fashionable looks that cost more than my mortgage. The people desperately clamoring for each celebrity’s attention. Or the celebrities themselves clamoring for each camera’s attention.

There’s nothing comfortable about a red carpet.

And I’m pretty sure all parties involved would say the same thing. Because everyone’s livelihood is on the line. And one wrong move could change your career trajectory.

When I was younger and still paying my dues, the stakes felt especially high. With actors, they say you’re only as good as your last movie. As a freelance journalist, I always felt like I was only as good as my last event. The problem is — journalists have little control over who does and doesn’t stop on the red carpet. Creating relationships with actors and publicists helps. But not always. Everyone has their own agenda.

It’s no different for those on the other side of the velvet rope. I’ll stop short of saying we’re all in the same boat. But we’re certainly all in the same water. Some of us just have bigger boats than others. And some of us are just trying not to drown. For actors and their teams, a bad soundbyte could cause a movie to bomb — or, these days, a social media crisis to ensue. Actors need flattering coverage and photos as much as they need their next acting gig.

Every day is an audition. For their peers and the general public.

That’s the reality of the red carpet.

With livelihoods at stake for everyone, kindness usually sits on the sidelines. So, I was pleasantly surprised to have an entirely different experience the other night.

“Hi! I’m so happy to see you and be able to hug you in person,” said the actress in a black shift dress, again, with the camera rolling. We then discussed her Oscar look and sense of style. Once we were done, I shut off the camera. But she lingered.

“You’ve been through so much,” she told me, referencing the many essays I’ve written about my late daughter, Miss Evan. “You’re so strong.”

She is, too.

I told her as much.

This woman has also — very publicly — been through a lot over the last few years.

For another minute or so, we shared a beautiful, private, human moment. Then a red carpet handler nudged her to move on. It was time for us both to get back to work. Another A-lister was waiting to chat.

“I gotta go. You gotta go,” she laughed. “Hi, hi, hi. Bye, bye, bye.”

And off she went to mingle with Oscar nominee Demi Moore and industry insiders like Untitled Entertainment manager Jason Weinberg.

For days, the memory of this event — and this moment — has played on repeat in my mind as I try to reconcile my past and present reality.

When my daughter was diagnosed with a rare mitochondrial disease in 2018, I took a step back from the red carpet world. It wasn’t possible for both me and my husband, a staff photographer, to work the same odd hours in the evening with a medically fragile little girl at home. I still, occasionally, poked my head into that world, but the moments were few and far between — and involved a lot of juggling.

Instead, through pounding the plush, red, nylon-covered pavement over the years, I’d made enough connections to create new opportunities for myself — from pitching, packaging, and writing meaningful long-form stories for the L.A. Times to founding and launching The Retaility, an aspirational lifestyle platform in 2021.

I also occasionally wrote about my experiences with Evan. It gave me an opportunity to introduce people to a little girl they’d never otherwise have a chance to meet. It also allowed me connect and reconnect with friends and colleagues from afar.

As it turns out, you never know who is reading, as I discovered the other night.

While I’ve mostly graduated from covering red carpets, I occasionally relish the opportunity to pop into one because (1) a girl’s got to make a living, (2) it’s nice to see old friends, and (3) getting dressed up is a lot of fun when you’ve been wearing sweats with your three-year-old son for several months. And I have to say…

With fresh eyes, it was heartwarming to witness a softer side and sense of humanity that often goes unnoticed in that setting.

From where I stood — in a pair of tweed and patent leather heels gifted to me more than ten years ago by Rose McGowan, an actress I first met through the red carpet — I was reminded of the tender moments that do happen between interviews.

Photographers and writers — from competing media outlets — welcomed me back with open arms. It was nice to be remembered.

Shortly after, two veteran journalists laughed about the fact that people are always surprised they’re such good friends since they work for competing outlets.

I later overheard a director tell them, “It’s always a pleasure seeing you. You’re both so smart and good at what you do.” And they are. They always have been. I don’t know how often they hear that from their higher ups in an industry that’s always onto the next deadline — or, sadly, layoff. It was nice to see someone acknowledging their hard work. I can assure you, in the past, no one would have taken the time.

Maybe it’s because we’ve been through so much as a society with the pandemic or as an industry with the strikes and recent wildfires. But my heart was warm watching people treat one another with dignity.

There’s a beauty to seeing people and being seen. To dressing up as a form of self-care and resistance when the real world is crumbling around you. I know firsthand from my time with Evan. We often got dressed up just to go to the farmer’s market or to pick up her prescriptions from multiple pharmacies. During this time, I learned to love getting dressed again. Not for others. But for myself.

The red carpet is no more real than anything else in this world. But it does serve a purpose and it’s filled with real people, which armchair critics and social media warriors often forget because the red carpet looks glamorous. As well as it should if all players involved are doing it right.

We’re not saving lives. We’re promoting projects — and offering people a much needed distraction from the difficulties of life. “It’s our job to make it look like glitz,” Sandra Bullock once told me during an event in Toronto where she was promoting a film. “This is why it’s entertainment. We’re not curing cancer, so we’re supposed to make it look sparkly. If you can have a good time, have a good time.”

And I did. Upon revisiting my past this weekend, I saw the bigger picture. We’re all performers in one big play. Some of us are the stars; others are the background players. But we all serve a purpose.

To a casual observer, the red carpet may seem like self-congratulatory nonsense. But as someone who has been on the receiving end of the unimaginable, I assure you — nonsense serves its purpose. There was a time when I resented nonsense. A time where I craved nonsense. And a time — the present — where I can appreciate all of it in equal measure. We all need a little fantasy in our lives. It makes the nightmares feel a little more manageable and just as ephemeral.

As for the kind actress, whose career I’ve watched blossom over the past fifteen years, it was a much needed reminder of how good it feels to see people and be seen by people. Perhaps, I’ll continue to dip my Chanel painted toes back into that water from time to time.

Photo of Demi by me; Photo of me by Lexie Moreland