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Absolutely great journalism. I remember reading about this event but your descriptions of what exactly you did and saw made one feel right there. And that was your first post, right? Sorry but I didn’t get the reference to “soft boiled eggs.
They move on down the line and there is a lull. For a moment we start to worry that Terry is no longer here and our spirits drop. The crowd thins a bit as women follow Sam’s trajectory. The woman who asked for Sam’s autograph hears us talking about Terry and offers us her first row spot behind the press line. We are delighted. As she departs, we see Terry’s platinum head approaching. Mom is so excited. She looks at me and says excitedly, “I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I’m going to go talk to her!” Mom leaves me to find an open spot in front of Terry. As Terry nears there’s a different, more familiar vibe. I hear women’s voices around me. “Oh…She’s beautiful.” “Yes, she is.” “She looks younger in real life.” Again, I can’t hear the questions or answers from the press but I see Terry giving thoughtful responses peppered with smiles and laughs. She has shoulder length platinum hair, beautiful skin and gorgeous bedroom eyes. Her nose is tastefully decorated with a tiny piercing. She’s dressed in her signature black with a long chained necklace and a favorite pair of pointy-toed medium brown leather boots. When she smiles, she crinkles her nose, and light radiates from her, creating loveliness greater than the sum of her parts. She is an autumn beauty, often disregarded in our culture, which comes from life experience and cultivation of inner self over time; an appeal as or more sublime than spring beauty to the seasoned observer. Terry has it and her costumes mirror it. “Terry, soft boiled eggs.” Mom says with a girlish grin and excited eyes, leaning over the barricade. “No waaaay!” Terry says, mirroring her smile. She looks around for me and our eyes meet in recognition. We all smile. “Hi Terry,” I say. “We’re all here.” I indicate our little group, “Mom, Fern…” After greeting us she says, “I’ll come back.” While she continues down the press line, we stand around and talk; Mandy joins us and we make introductions. I spot Ann from Germany, and we say hello and exchange info about how long we’ve been in town, what we’ve done and will do, etc. We discuss staying to get a closer look at the costumes after the hubbub dies down and Mandy suggests we come back at night for a better view. At length, Terry returns and by then the press line has all but vacated, so we snug up to the front barricade and have a wee chat. Women are asking for autographs so Terry is signing and chatting. Before long Fern asks for a photo together and hands Terry her phone. There is apparently a problem with zooming and selfie mode because after four tries it’s still not working. Ron approaches with LM (Little Moore, the youngest of their kids) in tow and indicates the throng of fans still waiting down at the end of the line. We say our farewells and the three Dresbach/Moores head off arm in arm. We linger for a while until the break down crew gets going, under the efficient and watchful eye of the young woman in the orange trench coat and fabulous shoes who has been overseeing the whole event.
Gradually the artists make their way toward us, doing small interviews with each press person or pair along the way. Cait and Sam are first, followed by Ron, and then Terry. I didn’t realize Ron would be there; the press invite only mentioned the other three, and I’m pleasantly surprised. Before I can see them, I’m watching them on Fern’s phone, held high in the air. This feels familiar: watching them on screen doing interviews. “There’s Jamie,” Mom says, and soon after, Ron is in front of us. He has leap frogged Cait and Sam, and is the first one to appear. I can’t hear the questions or answers, so these descriptions reflect my impressions as a participant of the overall experience, not a member of the press line. Ron is wearing a double-breasted black wool pea coat with a charcoal turtleneck, which looks nice with his salt and pepper beard and shoulder length hair of the same color. His sincere brown eyes take each question in and answer with competent humility. My impression of him is that he’s unaffected, a person of relaxed efficiency, unpretentious and considerate. His interviews are fairly short. Before we know it, he has moved on.
You’re welcome Susan! Thanks for the compliment x
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We stroll back toward our hotel contentedly chatting. As we approach the corner of Park Ave and 49th, the classic facade of the Waldorf Astaria comes into view. I check my phone, 5:00PM. “Want to have tea at the Waldorf?” Mom’s face lights up. “Really?!” “Why not?” So we cross and enter through the revolving doors.
Here is an except from that trip with Mom to New York City…
It’s 2:30PM. The guests of honor are meant to arrive at 3:30. We stand and chat with our neighbors. In the press line in front of us and to our left is a couple in costume from “That’s Normal.” She’s wearing a replica of Claire’s dress from The Gathering in Season 1, including undergarment with lacework sleeves and cowl. He wears a Highland tartan kilt complete with plaid piece, sporran, leather vest, stock, and boots. They both have red hair. Some of us know each other from Twitter, and we make those connections. I meet the lovely women from Outlandish Canada, in front of us. We exchange information. Mom’s legs start to ache. “Put yah leg out and bend ovuh…” (Demonstrating) “I’m a phy-si-cuhl thahr-a-pust.” Fern says. Mom obliges, and a stretching session ensues. I reach in my backpack and dig out the cashews I snagged from our hotel room honor bar; I begin munching on and dispensing them around to our neighbors. We pass the next hour and twenty minutes thusly.
Utterly charming recount of your adventure @Saks! Felt as if we were there with you, with all the tasty tidbits you provided. Thanks so much for inviting up along! X
Yes Beth. This trip was so special. And we also went to Scotland in Sept 2017, which was very special as well. I still need to write about that one!
Cait and Sam are next, and they arrive together. I first notice Cait. She is stunning. She is more beautiful in person than on camera. Her skin appears to be flawless and she carries herself with a combination of dignity, humor, and unassuming grace. She’s charming, attentive, laughs easily, and is thoughtful in her answers. She is wearing a tiny-checkered black and white Houndstooth dress; her dark hair with auburn highlights is pulled back into a classic bun. I’ve never been so attracted to someone’s neck before. She is at once delicate and strong, like a ballerina in Swan Lake. Her eyes are a luminous intelligent blue surrounded by thick dark lashes, with faint, appealing smile lines at the corners. She has those full red lips, her mouth always holding back or giving into a laugh or a smile. She is a true Irish beauty with beautiful light skin framed by dark hair, and you can see the quick wit behind her eyes. She reminds me of a college buddy, another Irish lass.
At some point I see a familiar face dashing across my line of sight, in front of the windows, and I realize it’s Davie the driver. A smattering of women recognizes him and yells, “Davie!” and “Hi Davie!” It appears that he arrived in a fire truck? Can that be right? The crowd settles back down. At about 3:50, there is some commotion at the far end of the display, near the corner of 5th and 50th. “There he is!” A woman yells excitedly. I’m reminded of the book “The Polar Express,” when the children first catch sight of Santa Claus. There is that level of elation and electricity with it. Hoards of cell phones go up. We can’t see anything from where we’re standing. Apparently, The Red Dress has been covered and is being unveiled ceremonially. Fern says she saw The Red Dress yesterday so this is a re-veiling and unveiling. After about ten minutes of this, Mom says, “I could really use that inch and ¾ that I’ve shrunk right now.” She wants to see what’s going on, but mostly, she’s here to see the costumes and to meet Terry. Before long we see the handlers and logistics personnel slowly working their way down the press line. The first man to catch my eye is a secret servicey looking guy. He scans the crowd, presumably for psychopaths who might leap onto the artists or brandish weapons. Over time he relaxes and eventually wears a bored expression, apparently resigned to the fact that we’re a bunch of women with I phones and umbrellas. I notice another man, preceding the artists down the press line, seemingly giving interviews. I can’t hear what’s being said. He’s very manicured, a slick LA looking PR guy (my guess); slightly incongruous with what I know of the Outlander culture, but clearly he’s part of the entourage.
The hard boiled eggs reference is… one time Terry Dresbach put on Twitter that she was feeling ill, and I tweeted to Mom: “Moooom, Terry needs you!” Mom tweeted that she would tuck Terry on the couch with a blanket and pillow and make her toast and soft boiled eggs (which to me sounds disgusting), but is apparently exactly what Terry loves. Terry said even reading that made her feel better. So, Mom went up to the barricade in NYC and said “Terry, soft boiled eggs!” and then Terry knew who she was