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February
2008 Anne Good and her composer partner George Webley - who arranged the music for The Office and Have I Got News For You - will be taking a special interest in the forthcoming film of Sex And The City. The couple, who have their own shows on BBC London Radio, have just returned from filming scenes for the movie, in which they are cast as British friends of Carrie Bradshaw and part of her "wedding party". "One of the producers is an avid listener and, after meeting them, pronounced Jo a Brit Carrie and decided to get them into the film," I am told. Former session player Webley has another Hollywood fan - Brad Pitt, to whom he sends tapes of his shows every month |
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Confessions of a Sex and the City wedding crasher |
| The complete DVD set of Sex And The City is sold in a pink-and-black shoebox and
I won't lend it to anyone.
It has offered me more pleasure and entertainment than my only pair of crocodile Jimmy Choos and was a present from my partner, Big George. I live in a tiny apartment in the West End of London with a huge roof garden. I broadcast six days a week on my own radio show, and often rake over the coals of my past romances live on air. So, as Loyd Grossman would say, "the clues are there". |
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Dream come true: Jo Good with her partner Big George |
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1 have followed the lives of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda so closely I could tell you their menstrual cycles. I am a devotee. Manhattan, their home, is for me the sexiest place in the world. And it's a place I frequent. I don't even need a guide book. The programmes are filmed entirely on location, using New York almost as another cast member, and after six series I can recognise every fire hydrant. Until the show came to an end in 2004, my dream was to land a cameo in the series and share a screen moment with Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall or one of the other girls. It would certainly have been a step up from Crossroads, the soap opera I starred in (as Carole Sands, the hotel mechanic) back in the Eighties. |
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The famous four: Jo Good's partner, Big George, captured the stars of Sex and the City as they worked outdoor scenes for their new film |
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But even at my most optimistic I never would have guessed at the events that unfolded last October. I had been commissioned by Radio 4's Woman's Hour to do a story in New York about consignment stores. We call them secondhand shops here, but in Manhattan they are full of amazing designer clothes, given away unworn by the city's top totty. Park Avenue is a fashionista's orgy of secondhand designer clothes shops. I was to interview a sassy New York businesswoman, Barbara, who takes tourists on shopping sprees around the Upper East Side, all on the trail of a bargain. Believe me, there were bargains to be had. Stacks of Louis Vuitton handbags mingling with Balenciaga, row upon row of Manolo Blahniks and Stella McCartney, many still with the original price tags. Rails and rails of unworn Prada and Pucci. Most of the merchandise had been passed on from wealthy wives of city slickers or over-indulged mistresses and was for sale at a fraction of the original price. I am a sucker for a label and, although my job was to interview the shopkeepers and Barbara, I was regularly in and out of the velvet-draped changing rooms, squeezing myself into designer gear. |
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Runaway success: Sarah Jessica Parker in the scene that included Jo and George |
Being far too young and pretty to learn how to operate recording equipment, I had recruited Big George. He stood, unimpressed, with the microphone, checking sound levels through a tiny headset. This radio piece was to pay for our fares. We thought we could knock it on the head in a day and then have a week's holiday, courtesy of the BBC. As I dragged a Pucci print kaftan over my head, Barbara informed us that some of the items on the rail in this particular shop had been brought in by Sarah Jessica Parker. What?! A leading actress in one of the most successful television series of the decade was selling on her clothes? Whether they were her own castoffs or costumes from SATC, Barbara didn't know, but it seemed incredibly frugal - or "green", or whatever else flogging your unwanted clothes is called these days. Was she the only one, I wanted to know, or did all four girls pass on unworn garb? Could Samantha's basque be lurking on the top shelf? |
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One of George's pictures of Kim Cattrall on location |
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I didn't find out, because Barbara was keen to visit another three consignment shops on Park Avenue. But, as we made our way to the next one, we suddenly found our way blocked by a fleet of trucks and Winnebagos and an army of about 30 security guards, all crowded around a luxury block of apartments. Film units are a common sight in Manhattan, but this was the biggest production I had ever seen. There were vast numbers of crew in attendance, all in shorts and the obligatory baseball caps, and even the normally nonchalant and film-savvy New York public were taking a keen interest. Hundreds of people, including scores of paparazzi, were crowding around a tape sealing off an area in front of the apartment block. Most of Park Avenue had ground to a halt and megaphones were hollering at the spectators to keep back. Whatever this production was, it was mighty. We dodged round a corner to find another route - and then a vision in scarlet walked towards me. Kim Cattrall, in a designer gown, was being escorted from the wardrobe truck by a security guard so big he looked as though he had eaten three others. Finally, I realised what had happened - we had stumbled upon the unit for Sex And The City: The Movie. Kim was laughing and wearing trainers. Three other members of the crew were by her side. The traffic was moving on this stretch of the road and she had to wait to find a gap to cross. "Kim, we love you," shouted a cab driver as he sped past. "Oh my God, she's beautiful," said a pedestrian by my side. "And she doesn't look like she's had work." "Jump next to her," said Big George. "What?" I asked. "Jump next to her and I'll take a photo," he insisted. "Don't be ridiculous. There are at least five men carrying guns and security guards the size of bungalows. I'm not just going to jump next to her." But he had given me an idea. We followed Kim around the corner and, when we got to the tape, flashed our BBC passes. Amazingly, the security guard let us through. It was apparent from the five-star location, the limos and the sight of Stanford Blatch (the gay character loved by the famous four) in a tuxedo that this was Carrie Bradshaw's wedding. Somehow, we had become part of it. I have always seen myself as more of a middle-aged Bridget Jones than London's answer to SJP, but I do have a unique sense of fashion. On this day I was decked out in Camden Lock retro chic. As for Big G, he wears whatever I tell him. He always looks cool, if a little dishevelled. A first assistant with a megaphone headed towards us and asked if we had had our "final checks". "Cheques? We haven't had any cheques," replied my partner. But, as I had flirted with being a thespian, I butted in: "We haven't even been seen by wardrobe yet." "No problem," was the response. "You look fine. OK, English couple coming through. First positions everybody." We were then herded with four non-English couples into the foyer of the apartment block, where I almost let myself down. There, in all their stunning glory, were Charlotte in black couture, Miranda in lilac, holding lilies, and Samantha with her Jimmy Choos firmly back on. They were the bridesmaids. And in their midst, with three dressers in attendance, was Sarah Jessica Parker, Carrie Bradshaw herself, in an ivory shot-satin wedding dress, green ostrich-plume headpiece and diamante Christian Louboutins. No sign of Big, or Aidan, or Petrovsky, or any of her other boyfriends. No groom at all. There were two flower children, aged about four, in attendance. Kristin Davis (Charlotte) was playing with them between "takes". I never discovered who they belonged to. I doubt if they were the offspring of any of the girls, that would be just too confusing. But, like all American child actors, they behaved in a very professional way and were probably already lactose-intolerant and drinking mineral water instead of Coke. We were handed boxes of confetti and given an outline of the scene that was about to take place. Carrie's wedding service had just finished and, on the word "Action", SJP was going to run out of the foyer into the street outside and towards the limos - pursued by Charlotte, Miranda, Samantha and, finally, us, the guests, throwing confetti. The first take was to be a rehearsal. Before that, however, there was only one thought on my mind. I needed to know how tall SJP really is. Only people my height (5ft 2in) will relate to this. Can you be a successful actress below average height? The other three are quite statuesque, but as I sidled towards the bride, who was perched on stilettos, I had my answer: she was tiny! Lilliputian, in fact. But at the same time, I had to concede, she was perfect. She had flawless skin, beautiful permed hair and a general aura of starriness. Stars really are different to us. Suddenly, Sarah stung me with her catlike, pinched gaze and I froze. I had got too near, overstepped the mark of intimacy, invaded her territory. And then: "ACTION!" I threw confetti and ran, blinking, behind the cast into the awaiting Press and public on the Avenue. Big George was by my side pretending to take pics while actually doing so. Hence a collection of wedding snaps that probably were forbidden. The crowd were doing the same - and screaming, "Carrie! Samantha!", which meant the scene was ruined. Through the megaphone, the assistant director shouted: "OK, that one was for you. We will do one more for you so that you can get a load of the girls, then, on the next take, you remain silent. Cool?" It was never like that during my time in Crossroads. I once filmed an external scene in a village High Street with Paul Henry, who played Benny, and a local farmer wandered into shot. Unfazed, he stared into the camera and waved his stick and, because things were done on such a shoestring, the whole episode made it on to the screen. In New York, we had to do the same take 12 times. Every time Carrie and the girls came outside, someone in the crowd ruined it, either by shouting or by allowing their reflection to be seen in the windows of one of the limos. Finally, after an hour and a half, our job was done and George and I were dismissed. But this was not the end of our role in the film. Twentyfour hours after the shooting of the most famous wedding scene this decade, BG and I were on our way to a sake bar in the East Village. Sake is only 50 calories per glass, but you do have to avoid the wasabi dumplings. We had abandoned the Radio 4 project as I'd broken the microphone while attempting to almost mug Kim Cattrall, but we were looking forward to the following day when we had an appointment with the producer of a radio show hosted by shock jock Howard Stern. This was our second appointment. I'd met Howard on a previous occasion and he expressed a desire to set a police television series within my breasts. He's an inspired radio presenter, although a bit off the wall. The sake bar would be the best place to prepare for the meeting. On our way, we stopped by a pharmacy to pick up some toothpaste. It was late at night and the store seemed unusually bright. The reason why became apparent as we moved down the aisle: a tiny crew from the SATC movie was doing a quiet shot of Carrie buying something. I have no idea where this comes in the film, but this time she was wearing a pair of tracksuit trousers and her hair was straight, not permed. It was about 11pm and there was no gazing public, no paparazzi, no circus, but now two extra members of the cast. "Hey, it's the English couple," said the now familiar first assistant. "Let's just have you over by the shampoos." We didn't argue. You don't on film sets. You do everything unquestioningly. Sarah Jessica Parker gave me a look of recognition. She was in trainers, I was in purple suede high-heeled boots. I was a giant, in my mind. This time the scene took only about half an hour and we were not required to do or say anything, just stand by, while SJP conducted her mini shopping trip. I'm still trying to work out how "the English couple" in the chemist shop, standing by the condoms and being ignored by Carrie, manage to get an invite to her wedding. Probably when it comes out, I will be just a shadow. Or maybe not. Apparently they have filmed three different versions - with three different grooms, I assume. But, for once, I was in the right place at the right time. And just to answer a few simple questions: yes, they are all very thin; yes, SJP's mole is as prominent as it appears, and yes, one of them does have bandy legs. And, no, I'm not saying who. |
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Click to see the orginal
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