Ugh. The Dusty Springfield biopic, a movie with several starts and stops that never gets made, is back with a studio. This time it’s Nicole Kidman who’s set to play my No. 1 music idol/hero, Dusty Springfield. I object.

Nicole “Botox” Kidman singing “Son Of A Preacher Man?” Singing [my all-time favorite song ever by anyone] “What Do You Do When Love Dies?” Singing “Tupelo Honey”? Playing later-in-life Dusty, the one with the frizzy hair and cigarette and lived-a-lot-of-tragedy look in her eyes? Dusty the occasional lesbyterian? My head is spinning.

I have a 1960s Dusty promo framed in my dining room (it’s for the single “I Don’t Want To Hear It Anymore” b/w “Windmills Of My Mind”). It used to hang in the hallway of my single-girl apartment. Before that it hung at my music editor job, and at the music editor job before that. It’s impossible for me to take the who’s-playing-Dusty news lightly. Mostly because I always thought it would be me.

Girl better bring it.