As a ginger-haired person, one might be inclined to believe that everyday is a red carpet experience for me. Not so, and if it were it would certainly not resemble the star-studded extravaganza that was held at Edinburgh’s Fountainpark Cineworld on Wednesday night in honour of the world premier of The Edge of Love.
Jostling for position in the overcrowded press pens were journalists of all stripes, and in one case, some hack’s kids. Lodged bodily up against the waxen-eared, be-dandruffed, pimply journo in the front row, I briefly wondered if all of this intimacy with bedraggled humanity was worth it-and then they came. First the starlets, Kiera Knightley and Sienna Miller glided down the carpet amid desperate shouts for certain angles and much jockeying for prime interview space at the fore of the press pens. Small calamities abound as writers wrinkle up in worry that they may never find out what the two actresses are wearing-on that score, Knightley was in a white jumpsuit and black jacket, both Chanel, and Miller was in something-or-other that made her face betray she was living a rather hard life-or maybe that was just all the ciggies and breakups she’s gone through in the last six months. Anyway, the gals were grand and the demands for their attention hundredfold those of Matthew Rhys, rumoured ex of Ms Miller and leading man of the show.
All of this excitement stepped up to frenzied pace as the real leading man, a certain Sir Sean Connery strode the crimson ripple towards the cinema, leaving behind him awed journalists, breathless festival-goers and harried staff, steeped in the prestige of the star that has left them, and breathless for the chance to see him again.