Being in Tilda Swinton’s Arms

How going to see “Orlando” landed me in a very unexpected embrace

She floated past me, riding her six-inch heels effortlessly and pausing to smile down at me.

Taylor, former partner and lifelong friend, shoved his hand into the middle of my back and there I was, standing in front of this goddess who smiled benignly and was patiently happy to let the fidgety photographers fidget.

We were at MoMA having just seen the gloriously remastered movie “Orlando”. Taylor had burst into the women’s room to grab me and pull me out to where Tilda Swinton was graciously submitting to the post-film photo op. I hate to come off as such a fangirl (ok, hate is a strong word for it), but my God, that woman is ten to fifteen tics above magnetic. I was mesmerized, but Taylor was having none of it. He was determined that I was going to actually talk to this divine creature.

First: have you seen the movie “Orlando”?

If not, stop what you’re doing right now and go to Netflix or whatever streaming service you prefer and watch it. Yes, really, right now. I’ll wait.

The first time I saw this magical unwrapping of gender, geography, and history was on a VHS tape when I was all of six months sober and it owned me. I was stunned and teary-eyed and breathless by the end of it. What British filmmaker, Sally Potter, had done with Virginia Woolf’s arch send-up of English mores and manners was almost indescribable. Not to mention the inspired casting of Quentin Crisp as Queen Elizabeth that still delights me.

And then there was Tilda Swinton.

I’d never heard of her and I expect most Americans seeing “Orlando” for the first time in the early ’90s hadn’t. I came away from that first viewing of the movie with a lifelong crush on Ms. Swinton. It pains me to write that because we all know that people who develop crushes on celebrities are pathetic, sad creatures who really need to get out more. Right? And yet, here I was 16 years after that first viewing of “Orlando” with my breath stuck in my throat as Tilda Swinton graciously and patiently waited for me to speak.

What did I even say?

If Ms. Swinton was patient and not concerned with the restless pack of photographers shifting and looking at each other, I was supremely aware of the need to be concise and direct. Yet, I suspect I jabbered a bit. I recall telling her that I’d hesitated to come see the movie this time in case my memory was wrong and it wasn’t the heart-stopping glorious experience I’d recalled all these years. I then said something about having been “a total trainwreck” the first time I’d seen it and that I wasn’t anymore and, if anything, the movie was even more beautiful, profound, moving, and funny than I’d remembered.

Then she leaned down from her great height and embraced me.

Tilda Swinton was holding me in her arms. Full body contact. And when I made the polite shift to let her know she could let go, she held me tighter. What does memory know? It lies to us all the time. But it felt as if she held me in that embrace for minutes. After that first polite shift, I relaxed and went with it. Who am I to pull away from Tilda Swinton?

Then it was over and the photographers were happy. My own photographer was too starstruck to have gotten decent photos, but he managed a couple of quick snaps to prove the embrace did occur.

Off to the sake bar

We left MoMA and headed toward Times Square. Taylor knew of a no-name sake bar somewhere near there and that’s how we wound up bouncing and laughing like third-grade girls having sushi and no sake. We’d calm down a bit and then Taylor would say “Tilda Swinton hugged you!!!” and we’d explode all over again. Then we’d calm down and I’d squeal “Tilda Swinton hugged me!!!” and away we’d go all over again.

I was flying to Prague the next morning to have a long weekend with that guy I’d met the previous year when I was over there (spoiler alert: that didn’t work out).

I floated out of that sake bar that night and felt like all the promised magic of a million movies set in New York City had all settled on me like a benevolent shower of glitter. It’s good that I didn’t know at that moment that the whole Prague thing was going to go south in five days or that any number of other disappointments and losses awaited.

It’s good that I don’t know that now. That I don’t know the particular losses and disappointments lining up to hit me in the days to come. I can remember being in Tilda Swinton’s arms and walk through whatever is to come.

Of course, she might have thought I had cancer or something since I’d just shaved my head again days before the movie.

Fuck.

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