DIZ

Today I talked to Diz.

This is the middle of the afternoon. The sun is intense. I stop at a newsstand to find some shade and buy the British Elle. “We sold out…” the lady says. “I love your shades! What are they?” she asks. This is Diz. I like her warm attitude right away.

Diz works six hours a day at this newsstand in Hollywood but the place is open 24/7. She stands on the street to answer people’s questions and check on them if needed. She reads The New York Post every day. “This is how I got so smart!” she bursts out of laughter. Her favorite magazine is Vogue India. “It feels like you’re reading a book about beauty, fashion and photography”, she says. “It’s all about famous people from Bollywood. I don’t know about them, don’t even know how to pronounce their names but they’re nice”.

Originally Diz is from Boston, Massachusetts. She says that her sing-songi accent comes from there. She laughs willingly after each sentence. Her style is unique too. She wears a red tartan skirt, a vintage jacket, vintage Jean-Louis Scherrer sunglasses, and square brown shoes. The badge on her shoulder reads “American Legion of Illinois”. Each of her fingers is decorated with at least two rings. While a white haired man is paying for his newspaper, Diz continues our conversation. She tells me she has two hundred pairs of shoes displayed in her house. In her refrigerator, she keeps two hundred and fifty nail polish. “I put my champagne there too, and milk and eggs”, she says with a smile.

Every person who passes by the stand seems to know her. It looks like she is completely part of the neighborhood. Incidentally she lives by the Hollywood sign. “I live under the D like Diz”, she says in an amused voice.

Today the temperature is surprisingly high. Diz and I stay in the shade. “At home I have a Wizard of Oz shrine, a Marilyn Monroe shrine and an Auntie Mame shrine”. Auntie Mame is a 1950’s movie. The main character is Diz’ idol. “She is an eccentric glamorous lady who gets rich, and then poor, and then rich, and then poor, and spends all her money on clothes and friends. This is how I’d like to live my life”.

A chubby woman rushes to Diz and speaks in a semi-whisper: “I’ve got a script. Do you know someone at Disney?” Diz nods but does not answer. The woman leaves. Mysterious encounter. I ask Diz if she will be able to help her. “I see a lot of things. I have my nails on the pulse of the city”, she utters. It makes me wonder. Is she some kind of doorkeeper? Is she the secret path that leads to the Hollywood studios? The shaman who knows the sacred words? She definitely looks like one… I am interrupted in my thoughts when a wiry man rushes by and addresses Diz “Hello beautiful!”

Everything in this buoyant woman is unexpected. When I ask Diz if I could take a picture of her, she rushes inside the shop. “Let me put some more lipstick”. Then, she strikes an unconventional pose, displaying her nails around her face. When she finally sees the Polaroid picture, she exclaims: “Shee-whiz, that’s fa-bu-lous! My lipstick came out perfectly.”

More customers arrive. It’s time for me to leave. Diz hugs me warmly: “It all started with our shades”, she says. “Now we’re friends. You can always fly by”. I will for sure.