Gilty Pleasures

Stopping, looking, and glistening at the Maria Felix bash; wondering what colors Michael Moore will paint on his rainbow.

Yet another guard—or maybe the same one—intervened at the self-named SIR IVAN's Hamptons estate to pound on the bathroom door and stop a couple from shtupping so others could pee. This may have been the high point of a long night at the rich p.r. hound's castle, where we were sent for "dinner" (actually pass-alongs; when one guest realized this, she frantically started calling out for pizza until realizing there's no delivery out there) and a screening of Who Wants to Be a Superhero?, the reality show that includes Sir Ivan playing Mr. Mitzvah, "on NBC." (Actually on the Sci-Fi Channel. In any case, I only wanted a meatball hero.) After SYLVIA MILES told everyone, "My movie was the hit of Cannes," the evening wound down as a fire thrower pranced around to an electro version of "Hava Nagila." Oy vey.

'Tudes and 'ludes reached a modern-day peak when COURTNEY LOVE played New York a few years ago and hit an audience member with a microphone. Well, mother Love performed at Hiro ballroom a couple of weeks ago and no audience members got maimed, but I hear her tour manager did get roughed up by that place's security—gosh, these gentlemen are busy—while trying to get tuna fish for Courtney within the hotel. No, it makes no sense whatsoever—I simply relay these things—but I guess she had a fishy attitude.

Speaking of bad girls, the troika of bimbettes who relentlessly fill our tabs with good copy have been taking turns stealing each other's thunder with rotten behavior, seemingly inspired by the spotlight-seeking killers in Chicago. I remember getting even more calls to go on TV and talk about Britney's head shaving than about Anna Nicole's death! That was a p.r. gold mine, and it helped make PARIS seem almost boringly obsolete by comparison—until the air-ess's scandal-ridden jail stay made her more sizzlingly compelling than ever. Since then, Paris lost points by wildly overdramatizing her transformation (NELSON MANDELA she's not. She's not even TERI HATCHER), and Britney's still flailing around in search of some guidance and beauty products. So who wins? My LINDSAY! By far the most talented of the three—catch up with Georgia Rule, no, really—she addressed her problem head on and so far hasn't mowed anybody down or crapped her pants. She's even got a boyfriend with a six-pack—and not of beer. She must feel so good about herself to have all these things! I pray Lindsay realizes that becoming not-hot in tabloid land could be the best thing that's ever happened to her. But wait a minute! And now she was caught in a messy DUI and Britney had a photo shoot meltdown? OK—Paris wins!

Open, sez me: Arabesque bartenders at the Christie's bash
photo: Patrick McMullan
Open, sez me: Arabesque bartenders at the Christie's bash


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