starstruck

Recently the fourth—or possibly fifth—random person on the street told me that I look JUST like Sissy Spacek. All of them did this uninvited, unprovoked.

Frankly, I am not particularly flattered by the comparison.

If I were given to looking on the bright side, I’d say that, hey, at least she’s a movie star, and therefore, theoretically, not entirely repugnant.

However, I’m not given to such sunny thinking. And I personally never found her all that cute.

I also fail to see—really see—the likeness. That’s not to say I miss it entirely. As a redhead, I do have whiter-than-white skin, eyebrows and eyelashes so light that they’re virtually invisible, and super-pale eyes. In other words, I’m a ghost. But…beyond that, they lose me. Or maybe I’m just in denial.

In any case, I am fascinated by this phenomenon because of the variety of complete strangers who, over the course of more than a decade, have felt compelled to point out this perceived similarity.

The first time I remember it happening I was in high school, working at the Rochester Public Library. As I was either entering or leaving the building, a guy outside—I believe he was white and middle aged—actually stopped me to note my resemblance to Ms. Pig Blood. “You know,” he said, “the one from Carrie?”

“Yes,” I said. “I know the one.” And thank you, sir, for using what may well be her LEAST attractive moment on film to illustrate your point.

Next it was a young guy—and I mean young, like a teenager, young enough that I wouldn’t have thought he’d even know who Sissy Spacek was. This was on the bus in Minneapolis a few years ago. I was sitting there innocently, utterly lacking powers of telekinesis, or, for that matter, a coalmining father, and he just jumped right in. I apparently didn’t express the proper gratitude, because he got sort of pissy and insisted, rather whinily, that it was supposed to be a compliment. OK, buddy. Calm down.

I know there was at least one other person after that, maybe two. I vaguely remember a very large black man on the bus. Again, they were always strangers.

Then, a few days ago, I was walking back to work after lunch. As I headed down Nicollet Mall, a Native American woman asked me for a dollar. As I was fishing it out she made small talk, asking me if my scarf was real fur (it’s not) and commenting that she didn’t like it when people wore real fur. I agreed, handed her the dollar bill, and told her to have a good day. As I turned to go, she said something nice about my eyes and I thanked her, still going on my way. But then she stopped me in my tracks. “You know who you look like?” she said, still staring after me. “You look just like that actress, what’s-her-name…Sissy Spacek!” I turned. “That�s it!” she said, smiling brightly. “Huh.” She shook her head bemusedly, and now it was she who turned to go. And I stood staring down the street after her. Huh.