by Chrissy Iley
A few years ago when -she was hot I did a Pilates class with Nicole Kidman. It was at Sebastian’s Pilates Plus. He was having a hot moment too. It is when Pilates classes were revolutionizing workouts in LA. It is when they were what Barre classes are now. Sebastian–a handsome heterosexual French man was known for his brutal workouts. He could also be hilariously funny and inappropriate in a good way.
How his eyes lit when the big blacked out Escalade deposited Nicole Kidman. She was on the reformer next to me–her legs were long, spindly and she laughed when she could not do anything. She laughed a lot.
I felt a strange, unspoken kinship as we were to two worst in the class. Sebastian did his usual routine; he did not give her special attention and I think she was appreciative of that. 5 minutes before the end she dashed out where her driver was waiting in the black car. I don’t think she sweated throughout the hour. She must have been quite worried about her escape as she was hounded at all times by paparazzi.
I wondered then why would Nicole Kidman want to do a class. She could have a room in her house the size of most people`s apartments dedicated to a reformer and personal trainer. And maybe that is what she did because I never saw her again on a class.
The other day I was going into yoga and this woman was coming out, tall, beautiful, with a compelling face, nicely made up and an unexpected charisma. Then I realized it was Maggie Gyllenhaal. The next day I took another class, arrived late and the only space left was next to Maggie Gyllenhaal. I haven’t done yoga for ages. I got a package, which is why I went two days in a row.
I always think I can do yoga and then I drip with sweat and my buttocks shake. It is a yoga class, nobody supposed to be competitive or looking what everybody else was doing. But this is LA and I am next to Maggie. And every time we are in a downward dog I think of her in the Secretary, one of my favourite movies.
I was in the class by mistake; it was far too advanced for me. I was sliding on my yoga mat in a pool of my own juices. My face is strawberry red and I am next to Maggie Gyllenhaal! I want to leave but I want to stay. I wait for the positions I can manage to come around again and melt into a version puppy pose – half downward dog, half child pose – while everyone else gets on with it.
Maggie is amazingly beautiful. The hair that she had for The Honourable Woman is slightly grown out and looks messy in a perfect way and she is good at yoga.
In yoga you are supposed to be thinking about nothing. But there I am thinking about Maggie. Why would she come to a crowded class? Even if she freshens up her face, so that paparazzi can’t get sweaty photos, they could still hound her.
I loved it that she is one of us not one of them. But I cant help thinking if I was her, I would not want to be doing a yoga class with me. I talked to my friend afterwards and she said she probably just wanted to be with people. There is something so bonding about doing a class with other people. And people like people. I thought about it some more, I definitely don’t like people, or being looked at. I would be going for a personal trainer. Or at least the black Escalade.