Photo Books · Digital PDF
As told by Carmine
Everybody walks on me. I remember every pair of shoes.
Carmine is a red carpet, and he has been walked on by more famous people than any sofa in Hollywood. He scores every pair of shoes out of ten, and he swears he has never given a ten.
Then come the award nights. Gowns, white suits, a lint roller with a mind of its own, a security guard who will not put Carmine on the list, and stars who stop for the camera of Robert Goldston, Sr.
Twenty real photographs from award ceremonies, and one carpet with very high standards.
Every photograph in this book is real, taken by Robert Goldston, Sr. on his travels. The stories are fiction, written as a gift to the photographs; the italic line under each story title tells you what the photograph actually shows.
Prologue
Good evening. Please wipe your feet. My name is Carmine, and I am a red carpet. When I am rolled out all the way, which is the only way I like to be, I stretch from the curb to the front door and then some. I have been walked on by more famous people than any sofa in Hollywood, and I have an opinion about every one of their shoes.
Most people think a red carpet is a floor. A floor! I am the first thing a star touches when the car door opens. I am the runway, the welcome mat and the warm-up act. The lights are for them. The applause is for them. But the footsteps are for me.
I do not work alone. There is Gus, the security guard, who holds the velvet rope and a clipboard with everybody's name on it. Everybody's but mine. And there is Delphine, a stylist who carries a lint roller the way a knight carries a sword. If it has fluff on it, Delphine will find it.
And there is the Photographer. He stands at my edge with his camera up and says almost nothing. He has been coming to these nights for years. The pictures in this book are his. The opinions are mine.
I score shoes out of ten, and I never give a ten. A ten would go to their heads. Gus says I am getting above myself. “You are a rug,” he says. I have a different word for it. Places, everyone. Here come the shoes.
Three spreads from the book: the photograph on one page, its story on the other.
No. 1No. 1
Tracee Ellis Ross on the red carpet at the NAACP Image Awards, and a second photograph filed under her name, taken with a guest.
The cars pulled up, the doors opened, and the first shoes of the night stepped onto me. I always remember the first shoes. These were black, with thin straps that crossed at the ankle, and they stood on me as if they had grown there. Nine out of ten.
Above the shoes was Tracee Ellis Ross, in a navy strapless dress with a soft bow at the top. She looked back over her shoulder at the Photographer with one hand on her hip, and the blue wall behind her said NAACP IMAGE AWARDS over and over, in case anybody forgot where they were.
Later the Photographer caught two friends posing together on my very best stretch. One wore navy. One wore pale pink ruffles that tumbled all the way down and spilled onto me like a waterfall. I approved of the waterfall.
… the story continues in the book.
No. 5No. 5
Angela Bassett in a red pleated gown with a jeweled neckline at the NAACP Image Awards.
I have one rule about color. Nobody out-reds the red carpet. Then Angela Bassett appeared in a red gown, and my rule fell over and lay down.
It was a deep, rich red, pleated from the waist to a long hem that pooled on the floor behind her. Silver jewels climbed the neckline. In the Photographer's picture her arms are out and her mouth is open, caught in a big bright moment, as if the evening had just told her a wonderful secret.
“Two reds,” said Gus, looking from her to me and back. “That is a lot of red.” “There is no such thing as a lot of red,” I said, though privately I was worried I looked like a bathmat beside her.
Delphine leaned over the rope. “She played Tina Turner in What's Love Got to Do with It,” she told Gus. “Nineteen ninety-three. They nominated her for an Oscar.” Delphine knows everything about movies. She says it helps her guess which jackets will need rolling.
… the story continues in the book.
No. 15No. 15
Idris Elba in a white suit and a blue polka-dot tie.
Delphine went pale when she saw the white suit. A white suit is the most dangerous garment in the world for a stylist. It shows everything. A crumb, a smudge, a single grey hair from a velvet rope.
Idris Elba stood in front of a soft purple backdrop of light rays and floating balloon shapes, in a white jacket, a white shirt and a bright blue tie covered in white polka dots. The suit was spotless. Delphine checked twice from across the rope, squinting. Spotless.
“He was born in Hackney, in London,” said Gus. “He played Stringer Bell in The Wire.” “What is The Wire?” I asked. “A television show about Baltimore,” said Gus. “Is there a carpet in it?” “No.” “Then I am not interested,” I said, but I was, a little.
… the story continues in the book.
45 pages, 20 photographs, one storyteller. Digital PDF for $2.95.
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