I grew up in a makeup chair, to see! the women around me getting ready was so aspirational, It is about mothers and daughters, a girl watching her mom at a vanity table.
I mean, I come from a hippie mentality where I just think to know someone, you need to look into their eyes. Eyes are so important. Until they start melon-balling eyes out, I won’t be able to get to know someone another way.
Being a Barrymore didn’t help me, other than giving me a great sense of pride and a strange spiritual sense that I felt OK about having the passion to act. It made sense because my whole family had done it and it helped rationalise it for me.
I love the world through glass. The more old, dusty and tainted that glass is, the prettier and more impressionistic that is to me. I don’t need to see everything perfectly. I don’t like it.
Sometimes you come to a point where there’s nothing more you can do. You love and respect each other, but it’s not working. So you amicably decide to part. I don’t know what the future holds: a lot of people get back together after they break up.
I don’t even have voice mail or answering machines anymore. I hate the phone, and I don’t want to call anybody back. If I go to hell, it will be a small closet with a telephone in it, and I will be doomed and destined for eternity to return phone calls.
