Yes, Queen

Finding Helen Mirren

- Michelle Lee

I arrive 15 minutes early at the Standard Hotel, but there appears to be some confusion. A guy at the front desk, a lanky twenty something who looks like his other business card says “Williamsburg barber,” is helping me track down the events staffer I’m supposed to meet.

“What are you here for?”

I look around and whisper, “I’m here to interview...Helen Mirren.”

“Oh, my God,” he enunciates quietly. “You just made me so excited. She’s like the most beautiful woman...” he stutters, “...woman...woman of a certain age.”

In just two minutes, the mere mention of Dame Helen Mirren, the 72-year-old badass and Oscar-winning feminist icon, has reduced this man to mush.

After a few panicked text messages, I realize I’m at the wrong Standard and race across town in an Uber, making it, miraculously, only a few minutes late. I enter the correct Standard Hotel, in the East Village, and almost instantly spot Mirren’s silvery blonde hair at reception. She gives me a warm “Helloooo,” then walks with me while I apologetically recount my geographical screwup. We’re ushered to a comfortable private dining nook, and before we even sit, Mirren tells the waitress, “I’ll have scrambled eggs, please.” No need to look at a menu. Helen Mirren knows what she wants.