This is the easiest post to write about now. I am very tired and have been out three nights in a row. As I’ve spent a great deal of time in my head evaluating the successes and failures of the week, I thought I would write lighter, perhaps even entertaining fare. So, this is about my believed encounter with my favorite porn star, the Candy Spookie.
While in a side room at the Greenwich Hotel for this last fashion week’s Marc Jacobs after-party I found myself drunk and alone. My two guests did not stay and I was snubbed by the only two other people I knew there. I considered leaving until the then new single “Swagger Like Us” came on, and Jay-Z stood up from his table and began dancing to it. I forced my way as close to him as possible. I didn’t care about photos. I just wanted to dance in his circle. And I did. I was battered and sweating by the end of the song.
I snuck to the back glass doors, which peered out onto the VIP patio. I leaned up, cracked a door to breathe and began fishing in my pockets for a cigarette. Discovering one, I looked up and leaning beside me was the person I believe to be the Candy Spookie. Now, first of all, I do not consume a lot of pornography. I’ve never paid for it, or downloaded it. I am liberal when it comes to the idea of it, but I do not seek it out. That said, I can identify the Candy Spookie.
He wouldn’t be pegged as my type, as I am principally attracted to either “better versions of me” or as my friend Mia observed, “people who own the traits of the most popular girl in our high school, your friend Cailyn Doherty – pretty, blond and thin.” The Candy Spookie, I believe is Greek and actually called Kyros Christian. He fits neither category. He looks like an older version of Francois Truffaut’s The Wild Child. But still, something about him struck me.
He was my height and wore a sailor’s cap. He was adorable and still. He motioned to bum a cigarette from me. Without any exchange of words, I found him one, then made clear I needed him to light both.
The two of us leaned against the glass walls silently, occasionally looking at one another. Then he was gone.
I was left with two observations, both hinging on my reaction to his presence. The first thing I thought when I saw him: You look so undamaged. I always imagined running into a porn star would reveal an addled and warped creature. That, he was not.
The second observation was one of intimacy. The only thing I could think to say to him (and thank God I did not) was, “I have seen the bottom of your feet.” For some odd reason, that I really haven’t pinned down yet, that was the most intimate part of my pornographic experience with the Candy Spookie and that was what I would have let him know.
