Jennifer Aniston Is Doing Great
From SMITH Magazine’s “Brushes With Fame” series
Reading Justin Theroux gushing about fiancée Jennifer Aniston in the latest copy of Details got me thinking about my fleeting opportunity to woo her right after Brad left her for Angelina back in 2006.
It started, like many great nights back then, at Babbo. I’m a food and wine writer, so I eat and drink for a living. That means that the pressure is always on when members of my famiglia come to town. They want Mr. Fancy Pants to show them a good time in New York City, because they think I live a totally charmed life as an underpaid freelance writer. Back then, for a good vibe and great food I would take them to Babbo down on Waverly, with hopes that celebrity chef and owner Mario Batali would walk by in his orange clogs and give us a wink. On one particular night my mom and sister Lisa had just come from a wine tasting and were most definitely a little buzzed and very, very hungry. While we waited for a table in the crowded bar area, the restaurant’s manager (an old pal of mine) walked over with a bottle of Barolo, three glasses, and a plate of three slabs of bruschetta adorned with melting slices of lardo. “A little something on the house,” he said with a smile, knowing exactly why I was there. I was feeling good. Mom was beaming. And so we huddled in the corner and wolfed down creamy cured pork fat with copious sips of the delicious wine, hardly saying a word.
And then it happened.
I glanced up at Lisa, who was staring over my shoulder toward the dining room, eyes wide and smiling. But before I could turn around, a sheath of perfectly straight, Pantene-shiny blonde hair was passing me and I heard Lisa gasp. Then, as if in slow motion, the blonde leaned in toward Lisa and they reached out and held each other’s forearms for what seemed like 10 long seconds.
Lisa said, “How are you?” with such deep feeling, I figured this was an old friend she hadn’t seen in years.
The blonde said, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
And with that she walked out, followed by her entourage of three hot bodies, not one of whose lovely faces I ever beheld.
When I asked her who that was she blushed and said, “Jennifer Aniston… it … was … Jennifer Aniston!” After a gulp of Barolo, Lisa explained she had caught sight of the world’s most famous blonde descending the stairs when their eyes met, but that Aniston gave her a serious look that said, Please don’t make a scene. They locked eyes and then “she smiled and she walked toward me,” said Lisa, explaining that she felt so bad for the star given the whole Angelina thing, she just had to say something.
“That was unbelievable,” said Mom.
“I can’t believe I just hugged Jennifer Aniston,” said Lisa.
Technically, it was a forearm grip. Yet undoubtedly, that night’s mission was accomplished.
