Such an intangible quality, fame.
You take the train from Villefranche-sur-Mer to Cannes on a crystal-clear Sunday in France, and you know there will be famous people there. Woody Allen and his wife Soon-Yi on Friday attended the opening of Woody’s new film, “Match Point.” Paris Hilton caused a camera-feeding frenzy on the Croisette yesterday. Kevin Bacon and Toni Morrison have been photographed, dressed to the nines. The train to Cannes unloads a rock-concert-sized crowd at the station, and everyone ambles toward the Croisette, the promenade along the sea. Huge white yachts look like bathtub toys beside Cunard’s Queen Mary 2, anchored just offshore. It’s the middle of the afternoon. You can just feel the presence of famous people.
Darlene and I had lunch at Plage le Goeland, a restaurant on the beach, then made our way toward the festival hall, where people were waiting to catch a glimpse of someone famous. One woman read a book standing on the base of a statue of former French president Georges Pompidou. HE was obviously famous; but, being dead, he didn’t cause much of a stir. We moved on. 
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