Name: Sarah Paulson
Age: 35
Neighborhood: West Village
Occupation: Actor, currently appearing in Collected Stories on Broadway.
Who’s your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional?
Anne Bancroft.
What’s the best meal you’ve eaten in New York?
That INSANELY expensive, but totally worth it, $26 Black Label Burger from Minetta Tavern. Just thinking about it makes me nuts.
In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job?
I like to think I am a professional listener.
Would you live here on a $35,000 salary?
I would give it my best shot.
What’s the last thing you saw on Broadway?
Red. Alfred Molina was so wonderful and Eddie Redmayne broke my heart.
Do you give money to panhandlers?
Sometimes … almost always if they are playing some sort of music.
What’s your drink?
Tequila; with so many limes you wonder why I bother with the tequila.
How often do you prepare your own meals?
Nightly. It’s not anything anyone would be proud to say they made, but I eat it.
What’s your favorite medication?
Advil Liqui-Gels.
What’s hanging above your sofa?
Nothing … the sofa is in the middle of the room.
How much is too much to spend on a haircut?
There is no way for me to answer that without sounding like a spoiled actress.
When’s bedtime?
Around 2 a.m.
Which do you prefer, the old Times Square or the new Times Square?
Time Square can be a maddening place. Then and now, I avoid it as
much as I can.
What do you think of Donald Trump?
“Why do you always look like a pouting 6-year-old who’s been given a timeout?”
What do you hate most about living in New York?
There isn’t a damn thing I hate about this place.
Who is your mortal enemy?
Sarah Palin.
When’s the last time you drove a car?
About a month ago, from Nashville to Paris, Tennessee.
How has the Wall Street crash affected you?
They aren’t making as many movies, or producing as many plays that don’t have major movie stars in them, making it harder for someone like me to get a job.
Times, Post, or Daily News?
Times.
Where do you go to be alone?
The bathtub.
What makes someone a New Yorker?
When you have the balls to yell “Move all the way into the center of the car, please” on a crowded subway train at rush hour.
