NY Mirror

At the Garden of Ono party for the compact fashion mag The Daily Mini, I kept wittily screaming, "Show me the Mini!" Sure enough, I got one and was even handed a Mini ha-ha by one of the mag's writers: "In school, guess what they're gonna call SHILOH PITT? Piloh Shit."

Piles of shitake were served at the Tao dinner for Ocean Drive's New York issue—if we can keep the incestuous glossy talk going—where I cornered one of my co-hosts, MAER ROSHAN, to ask about the rumored re-relaunch of his now-you-see-it Radar. "Re-re-re," he corrected. "Sounds like an ARETHA FRANKLIN song," I quipped. "It feels like an Aretha Franklin song," he said. "We're hopeful that it will happen." Me too—and not only because I want another kill fee.

When I went home and re-re-relaunched my computer, I found that a publicist had pitched me the ickiest piloh caca for this esteemed publication: " JARED LETO made the embarrassing comment about being gay as a goose . . . and has caused quite the speculation in blog-land. The actor surfaced and was incognito at [Manhattan hot spot] the other night. He was flirting up a storm with several beautiful models, and when the Led Zeppelin love song came on, he jumped up to dance and girate [sic] to show that he still gets excited for the ladies." Oh, that's reassuring, isn't it? I'm thrilled he can so publicly get over his horrible "embarrassment." I guess the song wasn't "Stairway to Kevin." (By the way, the publicist handles the hot spot, not Leto, so don't hold it against him—though he's not exactly a hero for sticking to his quote, then gurgling, "Kidding." The whole thing makes me want to shower.)

And here comes another dispiriting case of someone retracting his love for all things Judy Garland. Remember Stonewall, the queers-versus-cops incident that launched the modern gay movement? Well, every single homosexual of a certain age claims to have been part of that historic scene, making for a weird mixture of pioneers and bullshit artists sitting on various Gay Pride floats every year. And now, according to the Veterans of Stonewall's WARREN ALLEN SMITH, one of that group's longtime bright lights—Stephen vanCline—has finally revealed that he wasn't at Stonewall after all! The guy now says that he's actually straight but pretended to be gay to research a novel, and by the way his name isn't really Stephen vanCline. Otherwise, he's totally on the up-and-up.

Design for living

MARC JACOBS is still gay, but he's not with JASON PRESTON anymore. Preston, you'll recall, is the comely lad who's dabbled in escort work and who looks eerily similar to the co-star of Barebackin' Boyfriends 2. Just recently, he gave HX an interview gushing about Jacobs, the glamorous life they lead, and their distaste for other gays. But Jacobs tells Pride magazine that their relationship is now more over than pashmina shawls. "I wanted things to be a certain way, and it's just not working," he said, sadly. "I wanted him to be there when I wanted him to be there. I have to be in bed at 11:30 and he's 25 and wants to go to clubs every night. . . . I adore him. But do I want to control him? No." Besides, said Jacobs, the fling was affecting his work ethic ("My head was somewhere else"). Whether it affected his image and his relationship with his backers I'll never know. (My friends actually think it helped.) In any case, Preston should probably now consult JOHNNY "Wino Forever" DEPP about how to rewrite a huge tattoo of your ex-lover's name. (Update: Hold everything! The tattoo stays! Preston just told me they're back together!)

Still a team, old-time lounge performers KIKI & HERB survived the Battle of Shiloh (the Civil War tussle, not the fight for the baby photos) and even disco, and now they get the mockumentary treatment in Kiki & Herb Reloaded, a satisfyingly sick flick that played NewFest last week. (Yes, I pop up in the film; I was practically the PARKER POSEY of the whole festival.) The wizened purveyors of boozy bluesy uncork their souls before your very eyes, with Kiki ( JUSTIN BOND) emitting gems like "I always said if you weren't molested as a child, you must have been an ugly kid" and "The saddest day of my life was the day John Hinckley missed."

Someone who only shoots with a camera—writer-director JAMES TOBACK—gets profiled in NICHOLAS JARECKI's documentary The Outsider, a quirky tribute to Toback's ultra-personal, testosterone-laden filmmaking. At last week's private screening Toback said he liked the flick right back, telling me, "There isn't anything embarrassing in it except me." "He gave me one of my first breaks [in Harvard Man] and I failed miserably," the event's similarly self-deprecating host, Entourage's ADRIAN GRENIER, said to me. "I guess this is an interview?" he blurted. "You're writing down what I say—or maybe you're just obsessive-compulsive." "Both," I said, eyes twinkling. "I don't get too political," Grenier decided, smiling. "I like everyone!" Even on Election Day? "I usually vote for the wildest candidate," he admitted. "I voted for NADER a few times. But wait—actors are not supposed to talk about politics and religion!" I didn't realize those were two different things.

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