In honor of my idol, Rod Stewart’s birthday today.. i thought I would share the love I have for him with y’all!
I fell in love with Rod Stewart as a teen. Here is a story from my memoir,
Diary of a Beverly Hills Matchmaker about the first time I actually got to meet him.
I’ve been in love with Rod Stewart since I was fifteen years old. The walls of my bedroom were plastered with Rod’s posters. In 1978 my family moved to Tehran, Iran for six months because of my father’s work. I carried my precious posters across the Atlantic and plastered Rod all over my Persian bedroom as well.
I’m flooded with memories of the time I met him in person—swoon!—when I was working as a cashier in the famous French restaurant, L’Orangerie, in West Hollywood, which was often featured on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I met stars like George Burns, Merv Griffin, Catherine Deneuve, Frank Sinatra, Gene Wilder—the list goes on and on. I always checked the reservation book, though, specifically looking to see if Rod might be coming in. The day his assistant called to make a reservation for him and his then girlfriend, Kelly Emberg, I was so excited, I couldn’t breathe right.
On the night he came in, I made sure I looked really good, sexy enough to meet my idol. And, I made sure that I was up at the front desk when he came in. Then things started happening. The maître d’, Jean-Phillipe took Rod’s coat and large Lewis Vuitton wallet from him. He handed the wallet to me for safe keeping back at my cash register. I rushed back caressing ROD STEWART’S wallet! I decided that I would write him a love note along with my phone number and slip it inside. Just as I started writing, Jean-Phillipe came to get the wallet back. Dang!
I grabbed my purse and ran to bathroom, brushed my hair again, put on more lipstick, pushed up my A cup boobs, squirted on perfume, waltzed into the dining room, and stood only a few feet away from Rod’s table. I pretended to assess the room, hoping he’d notice, and went back to my station.
“You should have seen Rod checking you out,” Jean-Phillipe said.
“He was?” I asked. “Rod Stewart checking me out!”
Emboldened by Rod’s reported interest, I made one more tour through the dining room. His date, Kelly, had gone to the ladies room, so I walked over to his table, and though I could barely breathe, cooed, “Hello Mr. Stewart. What a pleasure to have you dine with us. How was dinner?”
“Oh, it was great, love. Say, Jean-Phillippe sent me this dessert, but I am so stuffed, I can’t even think of eating it. Would you like it?”
Rod Stewart was offering me his dessert? I thought I would die right there.
“Oh, how nice of you to offer, but I just couldn’t!” I told him, wanting only to jump in his lap and ravish his very being.
“Hello,” Kelly said, taking her seat.
I bid farewell and scurried back to my post, making one final tour past his table about twenty minutes later while they were having coffee. Imagine my surprise to notice that Kelly was crying and Rod was talking to her very seriously in a low voice and pointing his finger at her.
“Oh, goody,” I thought, maybe they are breaking up, and I will have a chance—but how will he find me?
I got a photo with Rod in May, 2001 at a soccer match.
I took my mom to a Rod concert in 2009!
Who makes your heart beat a little faster? I’d love to hear your stories.