I spent a good part of the ’80s and ’90s being told I look like Annie Lennox. I liked it. Self esteem was and has never been my strong suit. Being told you look like someone you consider super cool looking, as well as someone who is just plain super cool, felt super good. As if by osmosis, I felt I got to share that super nova’s aura through compliments. (Embarrassingly stupid.)
Due to my similarities with Annie Lennox at the time, I was stopped more than once for an autograph, heard whisperings, “oh my god that’s Annie Lennox!“, felt the stares upon my cheek. And the best? Being followed through Vegas for an entire evening. I never let on that I wasn’t Annie Lennox. That would spoil the fun. For both of us.
A few years ago I was waiting for the elevator at the 5th Avenue Saks Fifth Avenue flagship store when a makeup artist standing behind the counter shouted loudly, “You know who you look like.?” Smiling shyly but knowingly I answered, “Annie Lennox,” so fiercely proud of the association.
“Yeah, no, Kathy Griffin. I see Kathy Griffin.”
I turned right around and slinked out of the store. Such a funny thing to get shaken over.
It reminded me of the time I told my dear friend Hillary, “You look like a young version of Patti Smith.” An unadulterated compliment on so many levels. Regardless, this upset Hillary as much as me being told I look like Kathy Griffin.
This semester in my life-drawing class, as homework, I have to do a quick sketch self-portrait once a day. It’s humbling but empowering. I’ve really had to look at my face and analyze it. I’ve fallen in love with the parts that I thought were flawed and now I see the character in them.
I like what I see. Because it’s me. And I’m using a really good and forgiving mirror. Even when Kathy Griffin is winking back to me.
Simple Human vanity mirror along with my 15 minute self-portrait