Here’s a long-suffering Matthew Broderick, with me in my best black leather mini-skirt, as I bring an understated ruggedness to the role of a chatterbox ex-student whom he bumps into in Greenwich Village. My fictional boyfriend and I are shown bumping into him on Hudson Street, at the NE corner of Perry Street. As a Greenwich Village resident at that time, Broderick certainly had the easiest commute to the shoot: he just had to roll out of bed only a couple of street-blocks away, whereas I had to schlep across town from the East Village at crack of dawn in my mini-skirt.
To match the purple tights and purple polo-neck, I turned up wearing a purple beret too. For an hour before the camera rolled, I could see that the director Alexander Payne was peering at the beret, on his own silent emotional roller-coaster of “To beret … or not to beret?”, before he finally told me to take it off, alas. IMDb listing here. (24”)
(See video here.)