LA DIARY: THE FRENZY OF FAME AND AN ORGY OF CAMERAS

—by The Imagist - Everything Is Image / Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Elton John Oscar dinner tent before the storm

Me, I don't get the red carpet and this weekend in LA brought home the cruel truth that the red carpet frankly does not get blissfully anonymous me. Not that it is ever supposed to but TI found it the height of comic humiliation that while slinking past one of those mythic step and repeats for Elton John's Oscar viewing party/dinner/after-party/cluster funk the entire press battilion...on cue... put down their camera. I had been able to sneak in as the fill-in walker for a recent acquaintance. So you know...you give it the college try...cute tuxedo pants and jacket...clean white shirt...fancy shoes...you show up thoroughly moisturized and perfumed with your pearlies laser-whited and still ...not a single click. Not even a misfire. It could break a lesser man's spirit. But at least the dedicated voyeur in me got to witness how-it-actually-goes down and it certainly is as much a proposition of glamor as it is not. In all of this though I find LA very hospitable, especially if you have any degree of contact with a sssstar no matter how early or tiny that beam of stardom. You quickly learn that there are only two classes in the culture that is LA. The celebrated and those that service the celebrated. That's it. That's all there is.

The lovely lady in question whose orbit I was now pulled into was just another anonymous starlet when I had met her in passing at a birthday party last year. Now the full frenzy of fame was upon her and it was astonishing to watch the constant explosion of cameras flashes that would cascade in her wake. I would watch this lovely girl with skin newly bronzed, hair painstakingly pinned into place, swiveling and smiling and basking and soaking in the adulation and then the next thought was "Please God don't let all that burning light consume her ". Ashes to ashes, Daniel in the den of fire and all that. And this was long after the climax of the Oscar red carpet camera orgy. I assure you, TI got nowhere near that Oscar extravaganza . Did you know a limo navigating its way down Hollywood Boulevard towards the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion doesn't even get within 5 blocks of the event before that vehicle is stopped, verified, searched, sniffed and scrutinized. We're talking mirrored panels slid beneath the underside of the stretch, trunks popped open and all the uninvited minions informed that this is as close as they're getting to the proceedings. Did you know the service staff to stardom has to lock all the hair and make-up...makes sure everything is zipped, cinched and pinned in place and then set the butterly free to flutter in the flickering lights. It is kind of nice being with the entourage I thought as we knocked back drinks at The Roosevelt, trying not to make eye contact with the be-suited B-gowned masses making their way to the event. I found it amazing that this one event could shut down what looked like 20 city blocks, brutally keep the unwashed and (unfamous) masses behind double layered chain link fences and drive other wise sensible people to cry and decree over a flood of the world's most expensive prom dresses. I asked a dear stylist friend how does that work? How does a couture dress designed on the body of some 5' 11" 100 lb , size negative 2 Russian model come to work on the form of a 5' 3" actress with ample junk in her trunk? "It hardly ever does" deadpanned my friend. Significantly enough , did you also know that stylists, publicists, managers, designers and even lawyers all sit down the next day and measure the amount of press a given dress might have gotten? Take Zoe Saldana's controversial Givenchy extravaganza. It might have created scandal in LA but THAT was the dress that got the cover of the NY Post and for a lot of people therein lies the justification. But that is the point at which I should tighten my mouth and put my tongue behind my teeth.

The rest is pedestrian... and anonymously pedestrian at that. You drive over to the Pacific Design Center and run a slightly lesser gauntlet than the one that leads to Hollywood Blvd. After the paparazzi grinds home the fact that you are a minion, you descend into a tented courtyard drenched in blood red lights. You are introduced to people who seem extremely important or maybe it is just extremely self-important. They scan you, smile insincerely and then turn away. You roll your eye and then smoke an imaginary cigarette . And it ain't filled with tobacco I tell you.
Jamie Foxx swaggers by with Damon Dash's sister...or is Stacey his cousin? I forget... but Mr Foxx certainly has very luscious skin for a 40 year old.The big A-List table is the one with Victoria Beckham sitting with Elton and David Furnish along with Heidi and Seal. "You know Heidi don't you?" chimes a minion.I wonder what it must be like to be famous and have to store the faces of so many people who you might have encountered for only 2 mins... 5 years ago. It is a form of revenge on the part of the Gods methinks. I keep making pit stops at the Godiva chocolate bar all the better to cruise the other tables. Miley Cyrus I can tell you is one day going to do her very own "Sex" book. One can see it in her steely eyes. Speaking of "Sex" on a weekend like this you can't even turn without stepping on a superstar's Blahnik's. You could be sitting in the most humble of sushi establishments near Wilshire and all of the sudden the staff starts to close all the shutters and et voila'...Instant Madonna complete with massive sunglasses, 3 bodyguards and Guy Oseary . It makes you wonder...if this the sort of thing one twitters. But to twitter your proximity to these demi-gods is so secondary. Is that a part of the strategic devices of fame? Do you observe fame in order to attain fame? At the Elton John people were very declarative about the fact that they're now dashing off to the Vanity Fair Party or...had just been at the Vanity Fair party where Hilary Swank had brought the room to a standstill in the dress to end all dresses. The grass, you see always being greener. Maybe one day I'll graduate to multiple access Oscar Night after-parties but may I say when Miss Grace Jones came out at night's end and started banging her cymbals, ass out at 60, grinding and gyrating and grimacing even though her nice Jamaican church mother was there as chaperone, the long night finally found its justification. I saw a commonality in that and there is something I understand clearly now that I never got before. That is namely being a celebrity requires a certain consciousness of self that presumes the world is there to be of service. Later , whipping down those dark winding roads that lead you through Laurel Canyon someone observed how much like Florence the lay-out of LA was like. "Or maybe Rome where Christians were fed to the lions for sport" I thought but did not say. Question is who's the Christian and who's the lion ? It's all bread and circuses.

» Add new comment Brilliant. The entire thingSubmitted by sansoda on Thu, 2010-03-11 03:54.

Brilliant. The entire thing caught in its essence.

» reply Dam your good!Submitted by Anonymous on Thu, 2010-03-11 01:51.

Dam your good!

» reply we love when you writeSubmitted by Anonymous on Thu, 2010-03-11 01:18.

we love when you write ,maybe its because you are wise enough to be economical mostly then drop it when its due course.Truly when you go for it dahlin you bring it!very good.

» reply LA DiarySubmitted by Anonymous on Thu, 2010-03-11 00:21.

You have a great voice. i look forward to your text-based posts the most..

You've been on the blog luxirare.com. What do you think?

» reply THAT's entertainment!!! Submitted by Anonymous on Wed, 2010-03-10 21:50.

Maaaaaaaaaarveloussssssss, TI !!!!! This is good stuff!!! Keenly observed. Acutely processed. Beautifully written. Graydon Carter take note!! THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT!!!

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