Memoir Blast #1 — The Day I Met Kim Cattrall in a Chemist

Memoir Blast #1 — The Day I Met Kim Cattrall in a Chemist

I once met Kim Cattrall in a chemist — the American equivalent of Superdrug, maybe Duane Reade. I was so nervous I paced up and down the aisle opposite her, rehearsing what to say.
Should I say something. Don’t say something. Should I. Don’t.

Rich said, “You’ll only get one chance.”

So I gathered every ounce of courage… and instead of telling her how fabulous she was, how much I adored Sex and the City, how every outfit she wore shaped my own style — all I managed was:
“I love Sex and the City.”

And then I melted.

It was New York heat — 75 degrees, wet, sweat running down the inside of my legs. She stood there in gladiator sandals, slim‑fit jeans, a loose black silk top, hair perfect. The irony? She was buying stain remover.

She smiled, said “Thank you,” and walked past.
I beat myself up afterwards, but I figured if I kept it quick, it was okay.

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