CELEBRITY WATCH

Red Carpet Walks &
Marriage On The Moon

by George Christy

    From that first day when I arrived in San Francisco from New York to write an article for Town & Country magazine, I was pie-eyed from the beauty of the city-by-the-bay. What was not to love? Breathtaking hills that recalled Rome, those crisp blue skies, the exhilarating views of the Golden Gate and the Bay from Pacific Heights, attractive architecture, the tempting diverse cuisines.

    I’ve never forgotten an aromatic shrimp curry dinner at the India House, with Ravi Shankar’s haunting sitar music playing softly on the stereo. Lunch with the Chronicle’s boulevardier Herb Caen at the Ritz Old Poodle Dog, initially named Poulet d’Or, but the newly rich gold miners found the French name unpronounceable, and so it became what it became. One basked in San Francisco’s air, its breezy frisson reminding me of the bubbles in a glass of champagne, and, oh, that lovely cool of the evening fog. 

     Nothing better than being welcomed into a friendly city, with a proud citizenry, and tourists thankful to return home with memories of cable cars and Beach Blanket Babylon, North Beach joints and Chinatown souvenirs. In my world, San Francisco remains the friendliest mecca of any of the big American cities I’ve visited. New York, Chicago, and such Texas towns as Dallas, Fort Worth and San Antonio have their friendship quotients, but nothing like San Francisco’s.

    By comparison, Los Angeles isn’t friendly, and would that it were. To give it its due, Los Angeles is a hidden city, many charms tucked behind walls, unlike the thrilling open landscape of San Francisco. Blame it on Los Angeles’ overwhelming, far-flung geography of 90 suburbs searching for a city.

    Nor is Washington, D.C. a friendly place, charged with transient hustle and flow (one filmmaker’s titled his documentary, Washington Is Hollywood for Ugly People). Perhaps the proximity of neighborhoods backbones the loyal friendships that survive in the Bay Area and Manhattan, where it appears easier and more comfortable for friends to see one another. Not so in the Southland. In San Francisco, drop into Tommy Toy’s or the Balboa, PlumpJack or Osteria, and find yourself enveloped in a sizzle of conviviality and fun with locals and happy visitors.

Wolfgang Puck

   Wolfgang Puck also praises San Francisco for its camaraderie, and adds that Las Vegas is a friendly place, where he’s launched dining rooms to hosannas from global travelers. “Las Vegas is geared to please people,” says Tom Kaplan, who’s been Wolfgang’s major domo from Day One. “From the bellhops to the valet parkers, the desk clerks to the casino folks, everyone’s primed to be at your service.  Easy getting to know one another, establish friendships, without looking for ‘what’s-in-it-for-me.’ We’re a new frontier, with newcomers jazzed by the city’s engaging spirit.” Not wanting to miss out, money-savvy carpetbaggers arrive from Manhattan and Europe to open luxe restaurants at outrageous prices and partake of the profits that high rollers willingly pay.

   Wolfgang, deserted before he was born by his butcher dad in Austria and taught to cook by his pastry chef mother Maria, opened his infamous Spago flagship in West Hollywood in 1982 (Spago means string in Italian, and was christened by Oscar-winning composer Giorgio Moroder). Wolfgang has since birthed fine dining in every major American city, including Postrio in San Francisco. 

   In 1992, he pioneered his four-star cuisine in Sin City when he opened another Spago, then Chinois, Postrio, Lupo, his high-end steakhouse Cut, and other venues in Las Vegas to international acclaim. He now has 15 fine dining establishments in the U.S., and 80 casual dining and express operations. More are on the way. Considering his restaurants, major TV appearances, and cookware, he’s the most famous chef in America, and gives back generously, raising multimillions for Meals on Wheels for those in need, the homeless, cancer research and hospital charities, among others.

WHERE IT’S AT IN SIN CITY
   Along with the great restaurants in Las Vegas, grand-scale entertainment flourishes, as with the Quebec-born Celine Dion, one of the great pop singers of the century who learned English in three months. She tackled 600 performances at Caesars Palace, dazzling audiences for nearly five years with her music, gowns by Galliano, dancers and visual effects, selling out the 4,296 seat Coliseum arena. The show ran from 2003 until December of last year, and in March, wisecracking Bette Midler, after finishing her two-year Kiss My Brass world tour, debuted her extravaganza, The Showgirl Must Go On, budgeted at $10 million, which she’ll be performing for 90 minutes, five nights a week for two years.

Bette Midler

   “Celine warned me about ‘Vegas throat.’ Because of the desert’s dryness, best not to talk during the day, and I have vaporizers everywhere,” whispers Bette, whose dressing area has five rooms, two baths and a Steinway that belonged to Frank Sinatra. Bette admits being older (62) than Celine (39), but she remains indefatigable, fit and full of energy and sass. Her musical director, Bette Sussman, and choreographer Toni Basil are in awe of her high spirits.

   The spectacle’s scenery changes require 34 stagehands, and that mountain of Louis Vuitton luggage that opens the show weighs 2,200 pounds. Bette rides a donkey, sashays as singing mermaid Delores Delago along with her Harlettes, carries on as Soph, the naughty ageless showgirl (based on Sophie Tucker?), and flirts with her pink chapeau of silk feathers that’s 20 feet high and weighs 3,200 pounds.  Does she wear it? No; nor do the stars in Beach Blanket Babylon, thanks to  the genius of San Francisco’s Ziegfeld, the late BBB wizard Steve Silver, who created this tricky engineering of high-flying headgear.

Heidi Fleiss

   Before we ride off into the sunset from Sin City, let it be known that convicted madam Heidi Fleiss, 41, who earned millions arranging trysts for Charlie Sheen and Washingtonian politicos, is geared for a comeback in the Nevada desert, where prostitution is legal. The daughter of an L.A. pediatrician, Heidi “trained” with Hollywood’s once-reigning Madam Alex Adams, and while Heidi’s waiting for her brothel license, she’s auditioning for a “stud farm” that will cater to women!

   Hookergate surprises and depresses with its riches. After alleged dalliances with New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, “Kristen” (aka Ashley Alexandra DuPre, born Ashley Youmans in New Jersey), is being offered a million bucks by Larry Flynt for a Hustler photo session, with Penthouse not far behind. Girls Gone Wild producer Joe Francis is dangling $1 million for her to appear nude in a video. Her amateurish recordings are grossing thousands of bucks from the Internet. Heidi Fleiss’ advice to Kristen: “Tell the truth, and do what you want to do.” Any surprise if Spitzer heads into therapy, and write a bestselling book?  For those who remember Divine Brown and her 15 minutes of hooker fame with Hugh Grant, she’s a multimillionairess with her international CDs about crisis management (!), etc. and Versace is her preferred designer.

   Meanwhile, Helen Mirren, awarded the Oscar for her performance as Queen Elizabeth II in The Queen, takes a 180-degree turn by starring as a madam in Love Ranch with Joe Pesci as her pimp. The director is her husband Taylor Hackford, who gave us the Oscar-nominated Ray, inspired by the life of blues singer Ray Charles, which won Jamie Foxx a Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Ray.

   Jamie’s currently filming The Soloist, starring as a homeless cellist living under the freeway, based on a true story filed by LA Times columnist Steve Lopez, who’s played by Robert Downey, Jr.  “I’m taking cello lessons from a member of the L.A. Philharmonic, who I figured to be a stiff,” says Jamie, “but he’s one hell of a cool cat.” Atonement’s Joe Wright is directing.

SPEAKING OF OSCARS
   Designers claw to have Oscar-nominated stars and presenters parade their gowns on Hollywood’s annual night of nights, and often don’t know whether their gown’s been chosen until the day before (or the day of), when the costly stylists settle on their decisions, with preparations becoming alarmingly chaotic. Unfortunately, many stars can’t “walk” the ball gowns, as evidenced by Long Beach surfer girl Cameron Diaz in Dior’s twisted bed sheet, and who flubbed pronouncing cinematographer.

Cameron Diaz

    Oscar-winning Tilda Swinton’s clunky sack by Lanvin couture, not easy to walk in, was described by the New York Times’ Eric Wilson as being “designed by the House of Hefty.” Amy Ryan’s Calvin Klein “toga” belonged in a high school play, while Nicole Kidman’s choice of dowdy Balenciaga black was ideal for a vampire, and her askew necklace with l,333 diamonds by L’Wren Scott (Mick Jagger’s mate) appeared plucked from a dime-store window.

   Best-dressed Renee Zellweger showed off a buff body in her metallic Carolina Herrera. Both she and elegant Calista Flockhart had no problem “walking” the red carpet. Nor did Oscar-winning Marion Cotillard in her Jean-Paul Gaultier mermaid gown, Penelope Cruz in Chanel, stylish Katherine Heigl in her red Escada. Nor did George Clooney’s Sarah Larson, who makes no bones about working as a cocktail waitress at the Palms in Las Vegas, with friends anticipating she and George will wed at his villa in Lake Como this summer.

   Preparing for Oscar night, the stars, informs the London Daily Mail’s Ashley Pearson, keep busy with “appetite suppressants and fat burners, butt-firming workouts, mink eyelashes, teeth bleaching, cleavage buffing, underarm Botox to prevent sweating, last-minute Lipo — and bust boosts.”

AND NOW THE EMMYS
   We commend HBO for green-lighting quality productions such as the epic John Adams, starring Paul Giamatti as the second president of the United States, a lawyer who was the son of a farmer with a mother who couldn’t read or write. He’s considered the momentum with Thomas Paine behind the Declaration of Independence, having helped Thomas Jefferson write it. Laura Linney co-stars as wife Abigail, whom Laura describes as “the Founding Father of First Ladies.” Martha Washington? “Not that interesting.” 

     Meticulously produced with a budget of $100 million by Tom Hanks and Gary Goetzman from historian David McCullough’s Pulitzer Prize-winning, bestselling biography, the seven-part series was filmed in the Colonial Williamsburg Historic Area and in Hungary for the Paris, London and Holland locations. Tom Wilkinson delivers a teasingly nasty side as Benjamin Franklin, Stephen Dillane is the aristocratic Thomas Jefferson, Rufus Sewell portrays Alexander Hamilton, and David Morse’s sly George Washington wears a distracting fake nose. “Fab,” says Newsweek’s David Ansen, “even when it’s drab.”

   HBO hosted a New York screening at the Museum of Modern Art with Time Warner’s Jeff Bewkes and HBO Films president Colin Callender, David McCullough (regretting that today’s kids are out of touch with history), series scripter Kirk Ellis, director Tom Hooper and Tom Hanks welcoming 60 Minutes’ Morley Safer, Frank Langella, Candice Bergen with husband Marshall Rose, Joan Didion, Hearst’s Cathie Black, Sopranos creator David Chase. “What did I do to get into the role?’ shrugs Paul Giamatti. “I boned up on my history, improved my riding skills, and shaved my head for those 57 wigs.”

   Look for nominations during the Emmy season, also for HBO’s Bernard and Doris, about America’s richest heiress, Doris Duke, played by Susan Sarandon, with Ralph Fiennes as her butler Bernard.

THE WEDDING OF THE CENTURY
   “Lots of eye candy, with the most beautiful young people, we older guests felt even older, there were 500 of us, and we never ran out of mojitos all weekend long,” reports our friend-on-the-go, Kenneth Jay Lane, the most famous faux jeweler in the world, before he took off for Annette & Oscar de la Renta’s resort in the Dominican Republic’s Punta Cana. 

Lauren Davis & Andres Santo Domingo

   He was talking about the wedding of the year when Vogue’s Lauren Davis married heir Andres Santo Domingo, a graduate of Brown University, in the bustling port city of Cartagena in Andres’ native Columbia. Forbes magazine recently valued the Santo Domingo family interests, which include the beverage licensing in their country, at $5.7 billion. Andres’ father, Julio Mario, is looked upon as the “beer king” of Columbia, and Lauren’s philanthropic dad, Ronald Davis, launched Poland Spring Water in the United States, and mom Judy Davis is an artist.

   “Many of the beautiful bridesmaids would have loved for the handsome security studs to be invited to the wedding party,” winks Kenny, who flew with Mica Ertegun by private jet to Cartagena. “Thursday night’s dinner at the Casa Conde de Pestagua welcomed the first arrivals. On Friday we enjoyed a beach luncheon, with the rehearsal dinner that evening at the Hotel Santa Clara.”

   The ceremony at the 16th C. Iglesia de Santo Domingo was attended by nine gorgeous bridesmaids in pastel, shoulder-bare silk gowns. Kenny sighs that it was hot, very hot, which is why the wedding vows were at night. “I’m glad I wasn’t getting married in that wedding dress,” joked Kenny, adding that the Santo Domingos own an island, along with residences in New York, Paris and Madrid.

    Designed by Olivier Theyskens of Nina Ricci, the bridal gown, writes Billy Norwich in Vogue, took “the workers in the Nina Ricci atelier l,200 hours to make…and 800 hours from the legendary Lesage embroiderers…a Paris couture wedding dress comparable to Lauren’s would cost around $200,000.” The bride’s pearl-and-diamond Buccellati earrings were a gift from her mother-in-law, Dona Beatrice, and the service in Spanish “preached against the pleasures of the flesh; and the service in English described for the groom’s behalf the pleasures of fidelity.”

   First Daughter Barbara Bush was among the guests, as were Amanda Hearst, the Florida sugar baron Pepe Fanjul with wife Emilia, Princess Firyal, Eugenie Niarchos, Camilla Al Fayed, Margarita Missoni, Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos, Tara Subkoff, Ivanka Trump, Coco Brandolini, Jackie & Charles Ravenel, who flew in from Paris, as did Betty & Francois Catroux, and Cartagena’s firecracker hostess, Chiqui de Echavarria.

     Amidst the midnight revelry, London’s Izzy Winkler confided to Billy Norwich, “I told all my friends to thank God you’re already married. Because I don’t know what anyone could do to top Lauren & Andres’s wedding — except, I suppose, get married on the moon.”

    The author of All I Could See From Where I Stood, a novel written in college, and The Los Angeles Underground Gourmet, George Christy traveled as a roving editor for Town & Country magazine (when he fell in love with San Francisco), before joining the Hollywood Reporter, where his column, The Great Life, appeared for 26 years. He appears in films and on television.

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