We’re still positively giddy after the fashion parade at this week’s Met Gala. New York society must smirk and groan that its big night has been hijacked by a bunch of Tinseltown honeys on the make, its high-brow tradition usurped by a giant red carpet rumpus (Sendak, Maurice: 1963) That said, we do love Ivanka Trump’s new bangs and also the Valentino bedsheets worn by Sarah Jessica Parker. So perfect for our guest chambre.
It’s nearly Mother’s Day and we all know what a tough job that is. Comic Finesse Mitchell weighs in: "My mom had me when she was 15, so I know the younger the momma, the more jacked up your name will be." Probably this is quantifiably true.
Poor Reese Witherspoon can flee her kin in Tennessee for the confines of Hollywood, but she can’t keep em from acting up. Take her father, who is reportedly a real-life bigamist – separated for decades from Reese’s mom but never properly divorced. Dude remarries, big announcement in the paper. Reporters investigate. Seems he forgot about that small detail: making that split legal. The first wife has hired lawyers. Delicious summer fodder and why we love the South. The truth is almost always better than fiction there.
Those stories about John Travolta and masseurs have been circulating in the celebrity journo cosmos for many years, whispered but never vetted. Odd that they come out now, but Vinny Barbarino has deep pockets and this has been a long recession. Maybe people are hurting for dough. Le sigh.
Speaking of French: New President-elect Francois Hollande’s tres moderne companion Valerie Trierweiler, a longtime political journalist for Paris Match, no less, looks brainily alluring at 47 in a Catherine Deneuve-ish way. In the wake of the loss of fashion icon Carla Bruni, we’ll keep an open mind on what she might do in the world couture department. All y’all other big minds can ponder the foreign affairs crap. We’re sticking to the important stuff.
Romney, schromney. Here’s the only election vid you need to watch, all year:
From Alaska the younger Palin gal, Bristol, opens up a can of lower 48 whoop-ice against Obama’s newest and belated stance on gay marriage. The always outspoken mama bear Sarah must be proud that her Bristol ain’t afraid to speak her mind. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. One day, Bristol will run for Congress from Alaska. Just watch. BTW: Shouldn’t she face off against Meghan McCain in a cage match? For charity of course. Chick fights. Cool. Hilary Rosen can be the ring girl.
Speaking of fights: That was teen singing sensation Justin Bieber parading all swaggah-like into the Vegas ring last week with boxing star Floyd Mayweather Jr. While Floyd is an undisputed talent, his track record with domestic violence makes him sort of a loser in real life. Surprising that Justin’s handlers didn’t suggest he rethink his affiliation with the champ, who must fight Manny Pacquaio soon or else earn the title of coward. Everyone in the boxing world wants this fight in a sport badly in need of stars. Let’s get past the financing wrangling and set a date.
From our top coif files: Didn’t that foxy mullet on Keith Judd, the aspirational prison inmate in Texas who earned a whopping 40 percent of votes running on the ballot against President Obama in the West Virginia primary, out Joe Dirt’s Joe Dirt? Sensational look. He should send one of the ZZ Top dudes to the Democratic convention to “claim” his one delegate. One thing we know about West Virginians (and we’re a native) is they have the most fabulous BS meters around. And they don’t forget. Just sayin. Love our mountain peeps – from a coal miner’s granddaughter.
On the celeb hair front, the bob-meister has left the building. RIP Vidal Sassoon, gone at 84 to that great salon in the sky.
Joints ache? Hairline receding? Feel this: Beatle cutie Paul McCartney will turn 70 next month. If this is making you feel old, might we suggest a lyrical swap: “Will you still meet me, will you still greet me, when I’m 84?” It buys him more years. It does.
Highlights from the Clooney-Obama fundraising confab: Bud Light was reportedly the beer of choice for the president (really? Of all the beers, it’s THAT? And Barbra Streisand wore a beret, at night.) Oh, and they were all seated inside a tent on a basketball court. For $40K a seat, we hope the appetizers were warm. As for the afterparty, Obama reportedly played some Friday morning hoops with Clooney and that political titan Tobey Maguire.
The always fabulous Betty White’s new senior-inspired television show, “Off Their Rockers” is sort of the geriatric mingling of Candid Camera and Punk’d. It doesn’t really work unless Betty does all the bits. The other actors simply aren’t as funny. The premise is cool, tho. And salty Betty remains a national treasure.
If the vampirical bloodsucking of DC politics isn’t enough for you little issues freaks, the True Blood season premiere is set for Sunday June 10 at 9 p.m. In the interim, Johnny Depp – please bite our neck – opens this weekend in the film version of TV’s “Dark Shadows.” We’re going – and taking a full set of wax fangs to boot.
Reporter Diane Dimond continues to lead the pack on the John Edwards trial coverage, which reads like a movie of the week. The parts about Elizabeth Edwards’ reactions to her husband’s myriad lies are heartbreaking. The parts about John Edwards belief that he could still serve in the Obama administration, after his sordid story was revealed, are pathologically, breathtakingly absurd. Now that’s ego. Funniest revelation: Edwards reportedly consulted Hollywood pals like Sean Penn on how he should handle the Rielle Hunter affair. Really? Sean Penn? Who would he have consulted if he had become president? John Stewart? Morgan Freeman? Any other actor who played the prez? Staggering the mindset. And yet.
Finally.... best Facebook post of the week (and too true): “Once a woman steps onto a private plane, she's ruined for life. No mortal man stands a chance.” And no, propeller planes don’t count. Air kiss, air kiss.
