I Still Have A Doppelganger

"Oh Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start. And I bet, then you exploded in my heart. And I forget... I forget the movie song. When are you gonna realize it was just that the timing was wrong?" -- The Killers


I've written at length about my doppelganger -- the woman my colleagues mistake for me at the gym who was also spotted on the UWS by my nurse last fall. (We're ignoring the Cafe Mozart portrait model and the Notre Dame High School graduate from 1948 here, since it's unlikely that my doppelganger is anywhere near as old as either of those women.)

I bet you wondered whatever happened to the nameless chick who dares to walk around the island of Manhattan wearing my face. Well, an entire year passed with no sign of her. But apparently... she's back.

About two months ago, a security guard in my office wished me a good morning and struck up a conversation...

Guard: You're so lucky to live so close to work.
Me: I know! It's exactly one mile.
Guard: One mile? You live in the corner building above the Chinese restaurant!
Me: No, I don't...
Guard: Does your boyfriend live in the corner building, then?
Me: No, he doesn't. Why do you ask?
Guard: I've seen you come out of that building a couple of times.
Me: It wasn't me you saw.
Guard: I see you every day! I know what you look like!
Me: I'm telling you, it wasn't me!
Guard: Weird. Oh well.

About one month ago, I stopped at Gotham for coffee and the woman on line behind me smiled in my direction. She kept smiling and I kept my gaze fixed firmly in the opposite direction as I collected my coffee. She then approached me as I was adding milk.

Woman: You seem busy so I won't stay to talk long, but I just thought you should know that Winnie is still in physical therapy.
Me: I'm sorry, I don't know who Winnie is.
Woman: But...
Me: Apparently, there's a woman in this neighborhood who looks just like me. I've been mistaken for her before; perhaps she knows Winnie. I'm sorry.
Woman: Okay...

About one week ago, an elderly couple strolled into my office lobby as I was waiting for the elevator. They yelled "Michelle!" a couple of times. After the third yell, I realized that I was the only person in the lobby and turned around.

Me: I'm Ashley.
Man: Ashley? But you look just like Michelle! Doesn't she look like Michelle?
Woman: Yes! You and Michelle could be twins, dear!
Man: They absolutely could! Same height and everything!
Me: Um, thank you? I'm assuming that's a good thing, at any rate.
Woman: Of course it is. Wow, what a funny coincidence! I need to tell Michelle!

The elevator appeared and I hightailed it the hell out of there.

Finally, two days ago, my boss came to work with a stiff neck and shoulder. Why? He saw me on the street -- miles away from anywhere I actually walked that morning, of course -- and jerked around to wave at me, giving himself a muscle strain in the process. He eventually realized it couldn't be me because of the woman's location, but isn't it funny that the similarity caused him to react like that?

Yep. At what point should I start getting freaked out about all of this?

Who Are You?

"I used to believe I was such a great romancer -- then I came home to a woman that I could not recognize. When I pressed her for a reason, she refused to even answer. It was then I felt the stranger kick me right between the eyes." -- Billy Joel

A few months ago, I wrote about the New Yorker who looks exactly like me. How do we reconcile her existence with the fact that, apparently, I don't even look like me?

Someone Else's Clothes

"I'll take your side. If I'm the only one, I'm used to that. I've been alone. I'd rather be the half of us... the least of you... the best of me." -- Jason Robert Brown

There used to be a restaurant on 70th and Broadway called Cafe Mozart. It wasn't a culinary paradise by any means, but I stopped in for dessert constantly and dragged countless friends there. Why? For the thrill of the moment when their eyes focused on the painting hanging above the piano... and the subsequent moment when they realized that the woman in the painting looked exactly like me.

I didn't pose for the painting, of course; I was six years old when it was created, so the model who once looked so much like me is probably in her forties by now. Ink-and-paint doppelgangers are nothing new in my world anyway; in addition to Ms. Cafe Mozart, I once blogged about a twin from the Notre Dame Class of 1948.

Things have been getting a little more real lately, though. A few weeks ago, one of my colleagues told me that she saw me on the upper west side on a Saturday afternoon. She spotted me from across the street as I was walking with friends, but since I seemed to be in a hurry, she didn't call out to stop me. Trouble was, I was nowhere near the upper west side that day. My colleague was bewildered -- she sees me every day and is perfectly equipped to recognize me from across a street in plain daylight -- but we laughed it off.

Today, one of the rotating MDs came up to me and apologized for freaking me out at the gym the other night. She was on the adjacent treadmill, kept smiling at me, and tried to initiate conversation, but I obviously didn't recognize her so I gave a nervous smile and switched treadmills to get away. I haven't been to the gym since I left college, but the MD worked out with me last Tuesday. She recognized my face, my hair, my body, and even my glasses.

So in this sprawling, diverse city of eight and a half million, some anonymous woman is living in my skin. She sees the world with my eyes, she tames my hair every morning, she flashes my smile, she keeps my body fit, she kisses with my lips. And though I'm pretty panicked about all of this, there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I just hope she's treating me with respect.

People Are Alike All Over

"I look like him, I think like him. Same memories, same thoughts, same everything. Except I've only got one heart." -- The Tenth Doctor, after a fashion

Even though I didn't celebrate Hallowe'en, I'll commemorate the holiday with three anecdotes about lookalikes.

I.

My evening walk from clinic to the subway covers 3/4 of a mile, and yesterday, I passed eight Sarah Palins on the way. Eight -- I counted. That's roughly one Palin per 475 feet.

II.

This afternoon, I went to the Herald Square Macy's to pick up a few pairs of Hue microfiber fishnets, my winter hosiery of choice. At the register, my cashier -- a very old, very tiny Asian woman -- examined my credit card and gave a gleeful squeak. "Your surname and my surname are almost the same!" she squealed in a softly accented voice. "You have a G where I have a D!" She then wrote her last name on my receipt, right next to mine, and pointed out the similarity again. I laughed and decided to crack a joke.

"Wow! Maybe we have a common relative a few generations back."
"Yes! I am from the Philippines, but who knows, the Italian mafia may have traveled there at some point!"

I spent the whole subway ride home wondering how the cashier could have possibly equated the geek standing in front of her with Goodfellas.

III.

After several tries, I finally perfected a low-fat, easy-on-the-stomach recipe for vodka sauce that tastes exactly like the real deal. I'll type it up and share it as soon as humanly possible!

IV. (I lied.)

Last week, David Tennant, the sexy hunk of man playing the Tenth Doctor on the awesome long-running BBC series Doctor Who, revealed that he will be leaving the show after this season. The speculation about his replacement has already started, and Jack Davenport, AKA Commodore Norrington from the Pirates of the Carribbean films, Steve from Coupling, the pansy fiancee from The Wedding Date, and/or the dude with the bad American accent from Swingtown, has my vote. Just for the record. Here's hoping.

F. Murray Abraham?!

"You want an answer? The answer is, it doesn't make any difference. Because the old saying happens to be true: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, in this year or a hundred years hence, on this planet or wherever there is human life, perhaps out amongst the stars." -- Rod Serling

Courtesy of MyHeritage's celebrity face recognition applet:


Not entirely accurate, but it was better than my first try a few nights ago -- my top two matches were Daddy Yankee and Anna Kournikova!

Paging Doc Brown...

"Why is my reflection someone I don't know?" -- from Mulan

One of Mom's coworkers got this in the mail, took one look at it, and got horrifically freaked out by what he saw. He sent it home with Mom and now my entire family is freaked out by it as well.



That's the Notre Dame High School newsletter. This is the Notre Dame Class of 1947:


That's the Class of 1947. This is the person on the end of the line:

Those who know me -- especially those who knew what I looked like when I was a high school senior -- will understand.