FROM LEFT: Katy Perry at Country Club; Thom Browne.
STARDOM CAME EARLY; she was too young to handle it intelligently. She did everything to excess and ended up checking into rehab the way some people check into day spas. Her personal life was a mess, her parents greedy and selfish, her lovers world-class bad boys. Like many in the club scene, she started experimenting with the boundaries of her sexuality. Blame Madonna kissing Britney or Ellen DeGeneres seducing Anne Heche. No matter; one night she found herself kissing a girl. Lets call this pop tart “A.”
This kid has worked hard to get where she is. Granted, she was born under a lucky star and has had all the traditional advantages of a privileged upbringing: the right private schools, a house in Malibu, Aspen at Christmas, annual trips to Europe. Her father is a successful producer; her mother is stylish and famous. Her parents stuffed her closets with designer duds, but clothes weren’t her thing. She was more of a tomboy than a debutante, if you follow my drift. Let’s call her “B.”
These girls loved the nightlife, so it was only a matter of time before “A” and “B” crossed paths in Vegas. “A” thought “B” was fun and unthreatening. “B” thought “A” was yummy and ripe for a change of heart from the notorious losers who’d publicly humiliated her. “A” needed protection from herself and from the hangers-on who’d enabled her drinking and drugging; “B” was there for her 24/7. Naturally, they ended up in bed—and in love. What happened next cannot be confirmed officially, but I can’t help but repeat it. Forgive me, dear friends; it’s murky business, but someone’s got to do it. N’est-ce pas?
Hold on to your sanity, here I go. “B” proposed to “A” and she accepted immediately. They got tattoos of each other’s initials, entwined in a heart, in a place only their gynecologists see on a regular basis. I’m told they’re seeing a spiritual counselor and that a commitment ceremony is planned for Valentine’s Day in the Maldives, after a trip to Vietnam to visit an orphanage. “A”’s talking about having a baby and they’re debating adoption versus in vitro. “B” has confessed everything to her mother, and mummy has finally accepted her sapphic ways. She had no choice.
I hate to be cynical, but I guarantee you it will all end in tears. “A”’s in love today because it suits her mood; tomorrow she’ll be in love with something else. I hope “B” will survive what I predict will be her emotional Waterloo. Who else would tell you these things?
SHE KISSED A GIRL, HE MISSED A PARTY
Katy Perry, whose single “I Kissed a Girl” rocked the summer, invited pals to Country Club for her beau Travis McCoy’s birthday party. By midnight the pop star had confessed that Travis was already passed out cold on his tour bus after a strenuous night of partying and wouldn’t be blowing out the candles on his cake. Shwayze, Cisco Adler, and Simon Rex’s alter ego, Dirt Nasty, performed for the crowd. Adler and Rex both did their best to shock Perry with a streak of degenerate patter, but with absolutely no luck—she just kept ordering up the club’s signature Bellinis. The new hot spot on 14th Street is owned by Cincinnati Reds pitcher Bronson Arroyo, actor Jeff Marchetti, and The Sopranos star Will DeMeo, who teamed up with interior designer Jeani Ziering and the Sky Group’s Alan Philips and Josh Shames to create a classic country club theme with a sexy edge.
