I never forget a face.

I do, however, quickly forget from where I know that face. Which makes me, among other things, terrible at recognizing celebrities. Is that guy a minor star, or my old dry cleaner?

Jess, conversely, is nearly savant-like in her celeb-spotting. (And here, by ‘celeb’, I mean any actor, socialite, author, filmmaker, designer, journalist, editor, or musician, doing pretty much anything of note.) She’s not much impressed by her own ability, claiming she’s simply built up her encyclopedic knowledge by necessity – to excel at her job (consulting on the marketing and strategy side of fashion), she needs to recognize and know about all these people.

But, frankly, to excel at my job, I should really recognize and know about them, too. I just don’t.

I’d try to study up, but I’m pretty sure repeated exposure wouldn’t help. Last week, at a Vanity Fair / USA Network party, I even walked straight past my celebrity crush, Gabrielle Anwar, at least five times without realizing it. Admittedly, I’m really only smitten by the early 90’s, For Love or Money Gabrielle Anwar, rather than her current Burn Notice self. But, still.

The upside of my cluelessness, though, is that I’m wiling to talk with anyone. Even, unwittingly, celebs. Each time she takes me to a fashion party, Jess worries I’ll return from a loop of schmoozing saying, “I just met the nicest woman – I think her name was something like Ann Winters. Funny haircut.” At the Vanity Fair event, much to Jess’ amusement, I struck up a conversation with a lady I helped to flag down the bartender. Apparently, she’s a supermodel. I mainly noticed that she was about twice my height.

Still, even I can occasionally spot someone. Though usually only when I’m, literally, right next to them. That’s what happened at the same party, when I found myself standing next to actor Dule Hill. After seven seasons of West Wing obsession, even I could put the name to the face. And, it turns out, he’s a super nice guy – we’ve traded emails since, and he’s invited Jess and me to the well-reviewed off-Broadway play he’s producing, Extinction.

So, in short, I’m pretty sure I’m missing out on all kinds of other fun upsides the rest of the time by not having a clue who anyone is. Stupidity, it seems, has its price.