One of the high points of my career was writing and producing on the Daytime Emmys for several years.
It’s a black tie affair, a veritable who’s who of whodafukisthat?
One year, to ensure that the production team was outfitted properly, Ron Braverman (our marketing whiz) secured complimentary tuxedos for the fellas on the team. I went in and got sized, came back a few days later, put the tux in a bag and then on a plane and was gala ready in no time.
Except for the part where they fucked up my measurements.
You see, it was the night of the big show and lo and behold the sleeves were too fucking short.
“Damn it. I’m supposed to meet Susan Lucci tonite!”
So, I reached out to wifey back home in LA with this photo and told her I’d decided to ditch the collared shirt and go with Crocket & Tubbs, 90s R&B, T shirt and Tux steelo. This is that photo.
Thankfully, she talked me out of the style sin. Instead, I went to wardrobe and some angel on the team fixed my hem.
And I met Susan Lucci.
And yes she smells like a Macy’s perfume counter.