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As I ease the silk jade dress over my head, I feel a rush of giddy excitement. The fabric is sleek against my freshly washed skin, and when I turn to examine myself in the mirror, I am pleased to see that the garment caresses the curves of my nonexistant hips and chest just as well as it did in the store’s dressing room.
I smooth a liberal coat of “Daring Rose” lipstick over my lips, slide my pedicured feet into a pair of gold strappy kitten heels and complete the look with matching gold brocade earrings and a pearly white Hobo clutch. The effect is startling – I look every bit the part of a Hollywood bombshell on her way to Pizzeria Mozza, one of the hottest restaurants in town. Watch out Jennifer Aniston and Katie Holmes – Veronica is taking the Mozza by storm tonight! As I walk into the New York-style eatery on the corner of Highland and Melrose Avenues, my breath catches with anticipation. Even though I have never seen any of the celebrities that EaterLA.com claims are regulars, I am convinced that tonight will be different. The fifth time will be the charm. I will score a good sighting, gosh darn it! “Reservations?” Asks the well-groomed young host standing guard by the door. I flash him the biggest, most fabulous smile I can muster and lean in closely, my voice barely above a whisper. “We were hoping to grab a couple seats at the pizza bar.” I purr, gesturing to my girl friend standing beside me. He nods and turns a tan, chiseled cheek to survey the couples already hob-nobbing their way through the innovative thin-crust pies. “The pizza bar will be about twenty minutes, but I can seat you here now.” He says, cocking his head toward the other bar. The vastly less chic bar. The bar by the large wood door that is perpetually opening and closing as trendy Hollywood types and Chowhound foodies descend upon the dimly-lit space. I chew on my rose-stained lower lip, disappointed, but too hungry to wait for the boring “normal” people flanking the coveted seats with their un-famous behinds to order and consume their butterscotch budino puddings. After checking with my friend, we are seated at the “lame” bar. What a waste of a good dress, I think bitterly, but am immediately comforted when the convivial bartender approaches with menus. Buoyed by the promise of good food and wine, I lick my wounds and attempt to “buck up.” We place orders for quartino bottles of red wine, and I relax into the smooth wooden curve of my barstool thinking it’s just a matter of time before someone famous and fabulous breezes through the door. And really, it’s quite fortunate that we are seated in such close proximity to the entrance – I won’t even have to pretend to not stare since the host stand is in my direct eye-line. Not even Victoria Beckham is getting into the restaurant without passing through the probe of my sometimes green, sometimes hazel eyes. I casually sip my wine and attempt to focus all of my energy on my friend, but every time the door opens, I am ravaged with excited anticipation. I feel like I am on the “Price is Right,” trying to guess what is behind “Door #1.” It’s shameful – after three years of living in Los Angeles, I’m supposed to be above the Hollywood “scene”– not perpetually hoping that Patrick Dempsey will be lurking around the next corner. Our first course is placed between the paper mats in front of my friend and me, and my attention is immediately distracted with shoveling ambitious bites of Nancy’s chopped salad, a cornucopia of chickpeas, cherry tomatoes, provolone cheese, salami, shredded ice burg lettuce, and radicchio, into my mouth. As my tongue is coated with the vibrant flavor combinations, I forget to look up when the next few parties arrive. I continue to forget my watchful vigil throughout the rest of the meal. The glistening pies command my full attention with their decadent toppings like luscious goat cheese and crisp bacon, and jalapeños and tender speck. The robust wine, exquisitely executed food and the charming personality of our bartender/waiter has cancelled out all of my previous yearnings for celebrity sightings. As my friend and I relish the last bites of a coconut gelati pie that is decadently enrobed in warm chocolate sauce and toasted almonds, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of pleasure. Despite my dashed expectations for a night of seeing and being seen, it was the perfect evening. Pizzeria Mozza doesn’t need its celebrity clientele to shine – the biggest stars within those saffron-colored walls are the ones that are served on the plates. Pizzeria Mozza 641 N. Highland Ave. Los Angeles, CA (323) 297-0101
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