Tiny Pineapple

 She Looks

Her name says it all: “Claire,” a delightful anagram of “éclair,” that most tasty of oblong, chocolate-frosted, custard-filled pastries…and “Forlani,” which is, of course, Italian for “As scrumptious as a/an.”

 She Leaps

Claire Forlani (not to be confused with HP CEO Carly Fiorina) is easily one of the most captivating actresses working today. But even though she has striking green eyes, flawless cheekbones, and an absolutely entrancing smile, we shouldn’t let that overshadow what’s really important: she has the best lower-lip bite since Greer Garson.

 She Leans

She is the anti-Gwyneth, having adopted an American accent in so many of her films that it was years before I knew she was British. (I don’t feel too bad, though, because Kevin Smith didn’t realize she wasn’t American until after he’d already cast her in Mallrats.)

If I have one complaint about her work it’s that she isn’t working nearly enough. That would be a forgivable sin if she were spending her off hours dating me, but as this is not the case, she needs to get off her duff and get up on the screen.

Regardless, she has one of the most interesting resumes in the industry:

• She co-starred in the best 3/4-of-a-Freddie-Prinze-Jr.-movie ever.
• She appeared in 1/3 of the Polish brother’s Americana trilogy.
• She appeared in 1/7 of the Police Academy franchise.
• She has worked with both Martin Brest and Ben Affleck, which constitutes 2/3 of those responsible for Gigli.
• She has co-starred with both Achilles and Jesus.
• She has worked with both Laruen Bacall and Jackie Chan.
• She has appeared in films with both Tom Waits and David Bowie.
• Depending on who’s telling the story, she was either fired or walked off the set on the first day of shooting Deep Rising. (Smart move.)
• She’s got to be the only actress on earth with both Michael Bay and Julian Schnabel on the same resume.

I realize that there are some people who are not as captivated by Ms. Forlani as I am. She seems to be a member of that special class of actresses (that includes, among others, Ms. Paltrow and Julia Stiles) that discerning men seem to love and discerning women seem to loathe. They must give off some sort of high-frequency fingernails-on-chalkboard signal to which men are oblivious but which instantly puts women’s teeth on edge. But I, for one, am only too happy to be hard of hearing.

 She Smiles

The first time I saw her she was walking along the beach wearing a pair of khaki chinos (cut straight through the hip and thigh, on-seam pockets, import, machine wash) and a light blue chambray shirt (yarn-dyed, classic fit, long sleeves, one-button cuffs, shirttail hem, import, machine wash). We were both young and foolish back then. Me, a handsome, charming, and eligible man-about-town; she, a classic beauty gracing pages 3-6, 8, 11-13, 16, and 18 of the new J. Crew catalog.

 She Paints

I was leafing through the catalog one day while my sisters were engaged in a deep, philosophical discussion about society’s unrealistic ideals of feminine beauty. The conversation had begun (as all such conversations did) when Amy turned to Jenny and asked, “What should I do with my hair?” It always started with a seemingly innocent solicitation for help with a personal grooming decision and ended with me having to apologize on behalf of the entire male gender for being so (collectively) shallow.

 She Sits

Anyway, at some point in the conversation Jenny turned to me and asked, “So, who do you think is attractive?” I pointed to the angel in Item #D05426 and said, “I think she is a fabulous babe.” My siblings have referred to her as “The Fabulous Babe” ever since. As in…

“Did you see The Fabulous Babe on the cover of the latest J. Jill catalog?”

Or…

“Hey, I saw The Fabulous Babe in this month’s issue of Architectural Digest.”

I’ve been able to chart my own advancing years by following her progression through the world of women’s mail-order fashions. From her preppy J. Crew days, to her post-collegiate-young-professional J. Jill years, to her latest role as the ingenue of Orvis.

I don’t know her name. I don’t want to know her name. It would ruin everything.

“Perhaps at fourteen every boy should be in love with some ideal woman to put on a pedestal and worship. As he grows up, of course, he will put her on a pedestal the better to view her legs.”

Barry Norman (1933- )
quoted in The Listener, 1978