Is there a method to this madness? Or am I forced to be a shoemaker?
Dear Remy,
I am an A-list actress known for my dedication to method acting. When I played a mime, I spent a year training at Gaulier. When I played a sheep herder, I became an expert shearer. And when I played a heart surgeon, I found myself with a restraining order that prevented me from coming within 50 yards of Cedars-Sinai.
My last role was in a sober, thoughtful period drama: I play a 19th-century shoemaker who falls in love with her assistant. (In one particularly beautiful scene, the two confess their love while wearing only the sandals they made that very day.)
To fully immerse myself in this life (no pun intended), I spent weeks as an apprentice to a real shoemaker. I learned to make shoes by hand, sewing leather to felt, and even took a slight stoop to really understand the physical weight of the character.
But here's where it gets weird: The film wrapped six months ago and I'm still living like a shoemaker.
My house has turned into a workshop, with leather scraps, awls, and wires cluttering every surface. My partner is sick of the constant smell of shoe polish, and we’ve argued a lot. The other day I even found myself repairing my neighbor’s shoes, which got me in a lot of trouble because apparently Manolo Blahniks aren’t supposed to have thick straps nailed down the front. (They made me dizzy just looking at them, Remy, I was just trying to make them safer!)
I have to admit, I am as shocked by this turn of events as everyone around me, but I just can’t help myself. Every morning I grab my tack pullers and thread before I even get to my second coffee. Have I found my true calling?
Sincerely,
Put together
Dear Cobbled Together,
It sounds like you’ve really walked a mile, or more, as that cobbler. While it’s admirable to put so much effort into your craft, I wonder if you’ve allowed the character to stay in your life too long. I can understand why your partner is so annoyed: he’s now in a threesome with you and your awl-wielding alter ego!
Have you ever thought that shoemaking isn’t just a role, but a mirror that reflects something deeper inside you? Maybe the comfort you find in the shoemaking routine speaks to a need for stability or simplicity in your life outside of acting. Working with your hands can be meditative and free a different part of the creative brain. Some people do Sudoku, others do sound baths—you’ve found a place of calm in footwear, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Authenticity in your craft is important, but at what cost to your personal life? Can you find a way to honor the work you’ve done in this role while also allowing yourself to step back into your shoes, both literally and metaphorically? You’ve spent so much time being someone else that maybe it’s time to reintroduce yourself to who you are outside of this character. Could setting boundaries for your method acting help you maintain balance?
Remember, your ability to let go of a role can be as powerful as your ability to inhabit it..
And before we wrap up, I recommend checking the ingredients in the shoe polish you used, as they often have addictive or mood-altering properties.
I always offer the best of myself for my customers,
Remigio
Illustration by Russ Tudor
Help! My dog has more followers than me on Instagram!
Dear Remy,
With the TV and film industry at a standstill, I have turned to the social media space to continue building my profile. I have made a name for myself as a comedian in a number of enjoyable TV roles, but I know that in this day and age, it is a wise move to have a consistent online presence.
After building a steady following on Instagram, I created an account for my dog, a King Charles Spaniel named Delroy. It was something I did as a joke with some friends one night after having a few too many glasses of Shiraz, but would you believe it?, Delroy now has more followers than I do.
Since I was completely indifferent to social media a few months ago, I've found this latest development has really bruised my ego! Delroy sneezes into a row of dahlias in Holmby Park, and somehow gets 21,000 views. Meanwhile, I spend an hour doing my makeup before rehearsing and filming a well-researched sketch in which I play every single member of the cast of Love is blind UKand only a few hundred arrive.
I know it's crazy, but I find myself torn with jealousy for Delroy. I honed my craft at Tisch School, followed by a long stint at UCB, while the most extensive training Delroy ever completed was through the American Kennel Club, and he still came home terrified of mailmen. However, he has the kind of devoted fan base I've always dreamed of. They really seem to love my little mutt, while the biggest compliments I've ever gotten were from a malfunctioning bot.
Remy, I honestly don't think I can stand to run Delroy's online account much longer. On the other hand, he has brand deals that have allowed us a modest expansion. So I ask you: can I afford to let my envy get in the way of a healthy revenue stream?
Your,
Parent of a precious puppy
Dear parent of a precious little dog,
It seems that Delroy has become the star of your house, while you had your eyes on the spotlight. I have to admit that I have never come across this kind of puzzle before, but 2024 continues to surprise.
Let's pause for a minute, sorry, hold on a moment. Jealousy is a perfectly reasonable response here and has a legitimate place in the full range of human emotions. The fact that it's directed at a canine competitor makes the situation unusual, but no less worthy of your space for it.
The very acute reaction you’re having could be telling you something about your deepest wants and needs. You say you’ve had success as an actor on television, so what is it about the online space that makes you feel like you’re missing something? Social media offers a truly unique opportunity to interact with your fans, even if it’s in a parasocial way. Perhaps you could find that kind of connection through live performance? Delroy can’t beat you as a stage performer (unless you teach him a few circus tricks).
I think it’s worth remembering that YOU are behind the account, so the adoration Delroy receives is still yours to enjoy. And before you delete Delroy’s account, consider this: could it lead you into a new career, maybe even pioneer an entirely new business? Beverly Hills is full of dog moms and dads, so you might be missing out if you didn’t work with them to monetize their furballs. Could you launch the career of the next feline sensation, or even branch out into exotic animals?
How would you feel about challenging yourself with a creative outlet that leans into your natural abilities with pets? Don't let Delroy overshadow you; think of it as a human-pet power partnership.
Your unfiltered confidante,
Remigio
Why is my guacamole more famous than my movies?
Dear Remy,
I’ve been directing films for over a decade, and while I’m no Spielberg, I’ve carved out a pretty decent niche for myself. My overall Rotten Tomatoes score is 66 percent, which isn’t bad.
But here’s the thing: No one seems to care about my movies as much as my guacamole. It started as a simple snack on set: The caterer had ordered too many avocados on Instacart and I had to get out some red onion, lemon, and start mashing. My dad always made guacamole when the weather was bad or we were sick, so I see it as a way of caring for people and always make his recipe.
Before you know it, word gets around and my guac is legendary. It's the first thing cast and crew ask me before signing on to my projects, which makes me feel a little like they're insulting my directing skills, even though I try not to show it. One actress even requested it in her rider (even though she's a bit of a diva, she also asked all the riders on set to wear camouflage).
You'll never guess what happened next. One of my actors went on a national morning show and talked to the host backstage, and…now I've been invited to do a cooking segment with them.
Remy, I'm starting to take this idea seriously. Maybe I could be the next Rachael Ray, or Martha Stewart (albeit without the felony charges)?
The film industry is relentless and I've started fantasizing about book deals, product lines, and TEDx talks about getting the most out of avocados. Am I completely crazy? It feels like a fork in the road and I can't decide which path to take.
Improve,
Guacamole and rolls
Dear Guac and Roll,
Your guacamole is clearly the stuff of legend, but is it really enough to sustain you, or more importantly, satisfy you, in the long run? While the idea of trading the pressures of directing for the thrill of being “the talent” might seem appealing, I wonder if you’re seeing this passion as an escape rather than a true calling. Have you ever wondered what it is about guacamole that appeals to you so much? Is it the simplicity, the creativity, or perhaps the way it brings people together?
Midlife crises often bring with them a strong urge to streamline or drastically shift gears, but they can also be opportunities to rediscover what you truly love. Instead of seeing this as an either/or decision—guacamole or directing—could there be a way to integrate this passion into your current career? Maybe your guacamole could be the inspiration for a new film or a way to connect more deeply with the people you work with.
I think your fortuitous path to the morning show game speaks to the wonderful unpredictability of our industry and, if I may be so bold, of life itself. Have you ever seen yourself called upon by the nation to share your home recipe? How wonderful is that? And the fact that you can bring your father’s recipe to a wider audience seems like the stuff great movies are made of.
In your letter, you don’t say whether you have dependents or whether you can afford to change careers, but there are definitely times in life when you can afford to be bold and take a few risks. Is this one of those times for you? The world of being an entrepreneur and a “face” has its challenges, and I would advise you to think about the tensions that would entail. For every Gordon Ramsay, there are 100 faceless chefs who thought they could get ahead by yelling at white-suited subordinates while the cameras rolled.
But if the lure of the spotlight is too strong to ignore, ask yourself: What do you hope to achieve in this new life? Is it escapism, or is there a deeper desire for something you’re not getting from directing? The key is to make sure that whatever choices you make are driven by passion, not just a need to get away.
And if you haven't thought of it yet: Smoked garlic is a wonderful addition to any guacamole recipe. You can get it for free.
Avocado, don't stress,
Remigio
Remy Blumenfeld is a veteran television producer and founder of Vitality Guru, which provides business and career coaching to successful people in media. Send inquiries to: guru@vitality.guru.
Questions edited by Sarah Mills.