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A WOMAN OF PARIS 107
That sounded great to me. I had no idea whether the picture would be any good or whether the part was really important, but I knew that any part that ran for months and months was my kind of part. I determined to do everything I could to land the role of this wealthy Frenchman who worked for months and months at $500 a week. According to Monta there were several other actors being considered for the part, but I figured that if I could make Chaplin believe that I was the very embodiment of this character he had in mind, I would have a better chance of getting the part. So I planned a campaign.
It was Chaplin's custom at that time to eat lunch almost daily either at Armstrong-Carlton's restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard or at Musso and Frank's across the street. For about two weeks I lunched at whichever restaurant I found Charlie. The first day I showed up in make-up wearing white tie and tails. My dress in itself did not make me especially conspicuous because half the actors dining in Hollywood restaurants at lunch time were in make-up and costume. But I found ways to be sure that I was conspicuous.
"Have you some fresh escargots today?" I inquired loudly of the waiter. "I prefer them broiled with garlic and white wine sauce."
The waiter looked blank. "Huh? What did you say you want, mister?"
"Snails, my good man," I explained. "Don't you serve snails?"
The waiter looked at me reprovingly and shook his head. They did not serve snails in any manner, never had, and he hoped to God they never would. I shrugged patronizingly and settled for hamburg steak.
On the following days I appeared in formal morning attire, a cutaway, white flannels, and even hunting tweeds with an Alpine hat— anything I thought a wealthy Parisian might wear. And of course I always looked rather bored by life and a little cynical. Whether my campaign actually landed the part for me, I don't know, but I'm sure it helped.