Host Chat: Fleeting Fame

With New York's Fashion Week in full swing, I can't help thinking back on my most vivid Fashion Week memory. It was Fall 2006. I was Star Magazine editor-at-large, and I'd been invited to attend a runway show.  

Jill Dobson at a 2010 fashion party

That morning, I searched my closet for my most fashionable outfit, vowing to look my very best. Perhaps I succeeded, because as I approached Bryant Park for the show, a reporter from a Japanese magazine approached me.

"Excuse me, who are you wearing?" she asked.

"Oh, this dress? It's BCBG," I answered.

"Can I take your picure?"
"Sure."
She lifted her camera. I smiled and did my best movie star pose. And then it happened. A category-5 hurricane of paparazzi blew in. They descended upon us, seemingly out of nowhere. I stood there, blinded by the flashbulbs, seeing nothing but light... as if I were approaching the Pearly Gates of Heaven. But I knew it was something else. Something that, at that moment, seemed even better: I was clearly starting My Life As A Famous Person. I always knew it would happen someday!
"Who made the dress?" asked one photographer.
"What kind of shoes are those?" asked another.
"What's your name?" asked a third.
And then, possibly the greatest mistake of my life. 
Instead of just saying, "BCBG dress, Jimmy Choo shoes, and I'm Jill Dobson," I opened my mouth and said this:
"Me? I'm no one."
And, I swear, the photographers vanished into thin air. I literally didn't see them leave. They just disappeared, taking with them My Life As A Famous Person. It might've lasted just 30 seconds, but in that time, I grew 100% accustomed to the celebrity lifestyle. I had a vision of red carpet appearances, designers clamoring to give me their clothes, the launch of my namesake perfume (blending a delicate bergamot and mandarin top note with a sophisticated cedar base, of course), and a wave of offers to appear on -- or host -- various talk shows. I still can't believe all my dreams were dashed so quickly. In honor of those beautiful 30 seconds of celebrity, I offer up this letter to Fame:
Dear Fame, why are you so fleeting? And how do I win you back (or better yet, the perks that come with you)? Please let me know, so I can get the talk show gig of my dreams.  Thank you.
Sincerely,
No One 
Jill Dobson