Yesterday, three different people told me that my voice reminded them of Emma Stone. Two of them were kind of apologetic about it, which I was quick to put a stop to, because it’s like, “No, win for Liz!” I love Emma Stone.
And then, I had a story that I shared with them, that’s worth sharing here.
When I was looking for a room to rent in September 2012, I found a great little spot in East Williamsburg, a trendy neighborhood in Brooklyn that still has a little bit of grit to it. The apartment was in a big, old apartment building that seemed divided between young professional renters and people who had lived in the neighborhood far before a pair of skinny jeans ever strolled down the sidewalk. The building itself wasn’t in perfect shape, nor was the apartment, but it was still great: the room had pretty parquet floors, a fire escape, and a view out onto the street. It was small and it didn’t have a closet, but it looked wonderful and I wanted to live there. It was a room in someone else’s two-bedroom and the roommate who already lived there and had the lease seemed sweet: she was a nice, young professional who had just turned thirty (I was 23 at the time).
She and I chatted about our shared interests (yoga, good cosmetics, New York City real estate). As our conversation was winding down, I took one last look at the pretty hardwood floors in my future bedroom and was gearing up to tell her I wanted to take it. And then she said:
“You know what? You sound exactly like Emma Stone. It must be comforting to you, as you go through life, that if you were ever murdered in a really interesting way, Emma Stone would play you in the movie.”
When roommate relationships—especially those that started on craigslist—go bad, people tend to ask you if there were any red flags. I couldn’t move into this apartment because if this relationship were to go bad, it would be entirely my own fault because this was ONE HUGE RED FLAG.
Which is a shame, because it was a beautiful room. I still think about it sometimes, because I love fire escapes and hardwood floors. And life in New York City is basically one ongoing acute case of real estate jealousy. Still, I’d rather be Liz, and enjoy living my life with my Emma Stone voice, rather than worry that any night my roommate might kill me and only hope that Emma Stone will play me in the movie they make about it.