La Dolce Musto

What backup performer who screamed that he couldn't possibly be "that way" ended up moving to New York and setting up an account on a gay-sex site? What I'll-fuck-anything-hot actress certainly did so years ago when she was seen lesbianically canoodling with that sexy Eurasian model? What British daughter used to do coke with that ever snortin' mannequin? What newlywed also seems to have an eye for the ladies? What hot rumored boyfriend of that married star used to date that married mogul? What crazed indie artiste has been known to mistakenly walk into a building that's not his own before being alerted to the error? What power figure has a new girlfriend, to the consternation of wifey, who thinks if it blows up it could ruin her grander chances?


But back to the non-rhetorical sentences, and with names yet. I spotted funnyman JACKIE MASON (who recently starred in Freshly Squeezed: Just One Jew Talking) dining at Ben & Jack's Steakhouse, so I approached him and said, "Just one Jew eating?" He nodded. He said he remembered I'd written up another of his shows, Laughing Room Only. I beamed, faking appreciation. "That show was bad!" Jackie blurted. "But you were good," I insisted, still beaming. He asked if I was married to my female friend. "No, I'm a faygeleh," I said. He nodded. Still beaming, I moved on.


Listen to Michael Musto via podcast.
>> What is a podcast?

Another night, I was faygeleh-ing it up at the party for Off-Broadway'sFran's Bed, but I avoided trying to bother star MIA FARROW, because she'd graciously staved me off once before. (And all I wanted to ask was whatever happened to Rosemary's baby?) But Playbill's HARRY HAUN managed to corner the eternal gamine and ask what her next project will be. "A remake of The Omen," she replied, "with [her Fran's Bed daughter] JULIA STILES." Oh, good—I always suspected that Rosemary's Baby became Damien anyway.

Litter Box

We always read about the debauched antics of sleazy, raunchy celebrities—and I love it, mind you—but I was never truly shocked until the depraved exchange I overheard in the West Village between SARAH JESSICA PARKER and her cute kid. "Can I have juice?" asked the boy, with an unheard-of-in-these-parts wholesomeness. "Sure, you can have orange juice," Sarah Jessica sweetly replied, gently leading him toward a juice bar. Sick and twisted, right? My eyes are popping out of my head from the sheer heathenish horror of it all.

Heartwarming stuff is happening across the pond too. Ex–John Lennon love (and jewelry designer) MAY PANG is in the U.K. to hang with ex–John Lennon wife CYNTHIA LENNON. No, they're not cooking up another jukebox musical, thank God. Pang is simply supporting Cynthia in ex-Johndom as the latter promotes her second tell-all book, aptly called John. (John once hit her, for one revelation.) Yoko, presumably, was not invited.

Luckily I was invited to ALAIN DUCASSE's autumn celebration at his restaurant at the Essex House, where I got to ask the restaurateur why his food is so darned expensive. "We use the best products we can find in the market," he said through a translator, "and the service and attention are the best." I knew that—I was just busting his veal chop.

« Previous Page
New York Concert Tickets