I'm walking home from work last week, jacket slung over my shoulder, briefcase in hand, and I pass by Bumble & Bumble, a high-end skin-care shop. As it's midtown Manhattan, I don't really look twice at the TV/movie production crew loitering around outside -- you could use half these guys to build a new bridge across the East River, and no one would notice.
But, I realize that one of the guys sipping water while waiting for the next take is Carson Kressley of QESG fame. Having little better to do, I amble over and tell him that I love his show. Carson thanks me, and then conversation goes like this:
Carson: You've got an okay look going here -- nice, conservative, love the bag. But we have to do something about those pleated pants.
Me: I know. My wife insists that all my new pants be flat front.
Carson: She's absolutely right -- wouldn't want to make your butt look big.
Me: I'm working on it.
Carson: Let me guess, lawyer?
Carson: Like a cheap novel. I read you like a cheap novel.
Production Assistant: Carson, final take!
Carson: Right -- see you later!
And that was my brush with Mr. Kressley. Now if I can only run into Ted at Sherry Lehman . . .
Hey, we're not Gawker, but if you have a good sighting to report, send it in.