Unless you sat through the People’s Choice award-winning Lifetime movie chronicling my personal saga (starring Meridith Baxter-Berney in her most challenging role yet, ‘natch), many of you may not be aware that I spent my formidable (read: sober) years growing up on the redneck streets of West Virginia. And by redneck, I don’t mean that time you bought that gold by the inch necklace at the Glendale Galleria. I mean country. Like gun rack chic. Cracker Barrel couture. During my tenure in John Denver’s (R.I.P.) home turf, I took it upon myself to bring pop culture to the Blue Ridge Mountains, often challenging the hillbilly status quo in the name of fashion or consumables. For example, I was the first to wear my overalls with one strap untethered– an incredibly bold choice for the time, later found on many a Karl Lagerfeld runway and Color Me Badd band mate. But, perhaps my most daring statement was my flowing, shoulder length blond hair. If Dorothy Hamill was bouncing and behavin’, I was bouncing and befuddlin’, confounding onlookers with my perfect androgynous symmetry. Continue reading
Celebrity Touch Target: Lars Ulrich
Why: Because I thought the outspoken drummer for heavy metal rock band Metallica was actually nonagenarian Betty White
Where: United Airlines flight from JFK to SFO
How: It is a known fact that rock stars age about as well as a Jim Carrey RomCom. So when you see a rock legend in person, you are as likely to mistake them for a sad, week-old Edible Arrangement, as you are a Grammy-award winning artist. That is exactly why my faithful travel companion Elizabeth had to point out, on a recent flight from New York, that the shriveled thing sitting in First Class wasn’t a coworker’s half-hearted attempt to gain favors through skewered fruits and vegetables, but the perpetually angry little drummer for heavy metal band Metallica. Complete with a buckwheat-filled neck pillow (Enter Sandman indeed!), Lars Ulrich and his wispy Crypt Keeper coiffure was unfortunately many, many rows away from my well-manicured Celebrity Touching fingers. The closest thing to a celebrity near me was the caterwauling Russian infant across the row looking to replace Ann Wilson as the lead singer of Heart (not possible). How was I going to touch Lars if I was way back here? Would I be denied this prime Celebrity Touch™? As luck would have it, when we landed, the gods (and by gods, I mean Stevie Nicks, Pat Benatar and Debbie Harry) were with me, because Lars got up from his seat and just stood there… as if he was actually waiting for me… or maybe he thought I was Steven Tyler given the multitude of vibrant hemp scarves I was donning due to something called a “Polar Vortex.” I shimmied up the aisle like Axl Rose in genital-restricting John Varvatos leather trousers and grazed Lars’ grandma clapper as I walked past. Surprisingly, he didn’t disintegrate like so many Ark of the Covenant-gazing Nazis. Celebrity Touch secured!
The iconic Barbie Doll was first unleashed on an unsuspecting world in 1959 (the same year Fidel Castro came to power in Cuba, which explains a lot). A huge hit for Mattel, apparently the throngs of repressed, Pall Mall-smoking mothers who bought them for their precocious daughters didn’t give much thought to the fact that Barbie’s proportions didn’t reflect reality in the least. If she was a real person, Barbie would be a horrifying 33” hips, 18” waist – same as mine – and a Dolly-challenging 39” bust, all immortalized in shiny, slick and highly-flammable plastic (apologies to my sisters… plastic boobs are Zippo magnets). Barbie’s glossy, seam-busting frame is exactly what came to mind the night I touched Jessica Simpson. Continue reading
If there is one thing I pride myself on more than my long glamorous eye lashes, it is my ability to find a good stiff cocktail when I really need one. You know, like after enduring any episode of The Voice that features Christina Aguilera (one of my most dramatic past Celebrity Touch™ victims). But there are times that my inherent booze GPS fails me, leaving me as parched as Courtney Love’s lady area after a night of unfiltered Marlboros, Red Baron Pizzas and collagen injections. I faced such an occurrence recently in New York’s West Village and the only thing that pulled me through was the freckle-faced oasis that is Academy-Award nominee Julianne Moore. Continue reading
Celebrity Touch Target: Steven Cojocaru
Why: Because I am having a celebrity touching dry spell lately and this C-list television fashion critic just happened to be standing there
How: They say that clothes make the man, but in the case of fashion victim… oops I mean critic… Steven Cojocaru, I would argue that hair makes the man… look like a woman. I noticed Meg Ryan standing in the United Airlines Premier Executive line (that would mean she was BEHIND me) boarding a flight to San Francisco. Then, as the always-flattering fluorescent light caught just the right angle, I noticed that Meg Ryan was actually fashion gadfly Steven Cojocaru. Same stringy, bleached hair, vagina and puffy lips (redundant, sorry), but just a little more feminine than Meg. Now, granted, Cojo, as he likes to be called by housewives at the Kohl’s makeup counter, isn’t truly a celebrity, but I have been celebrity touch-free lately, so we will allow it. In order to touch Flojo, I decided to suddenly decelerate, letting those people who were just going to get pulled out of line anyway for not boarding at the right time, breeze past me. This put my modest caboose on a collision course with the flame-buoyant Today Show correspondent. Thankfully, his hair bags must have deployed just in the nick of time because he only gently grazed me with his murse, saving me years of therapy if something else would have bumped into my rump. Celebrity-ish Touch secured!
Celebrity Touch Target: Calvin Klein
Why: Because the famous fashion designer has been in my pants for years
Where: The new Uniqlo store in SOHO
How: The last place you would expect to find Calvin Klein is at a Japanese discount clothing store in Manhattan, but there he was, floating down the stairs with his little Gasian (gay-Asian… no relation to the Craisin). This time, something did come between him and his Calvin (digital high-five to me for dated Brooke Shield’s reference). I had to be careful, because Gasians are known to attack blond white guys without warning and the last thing I need is to be mauled by someone in a crocheted Fendi poncho. As Calvin walked by, I bent down as if to tie my white LA Gear high tops, cautiously reached out and touched his pant leg. I then quickly curled up in the fetal position to protect myself from the furious attack which never materialized. Celebrity Touch™ secured!
There are stars in the world who are on a very special Celebrity Touch™ list that I call the “That Bitch is Gonna Die” list. This is the list of celebrities who I need to hurry up and touch before they die, because once they are dead, it is really hard to touch them and not feel just a bit creepy. Now, you can make it on the list if your personal tragedies HAVE interfered with your ability to do good hair (Amy Winehouse), you are just plain old (I got my eye on you Betty White) or you have some health ailment, usually obesity, that is going to lead to a very early demise. The person at the top of that category is the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, who is my latest Celebrity Touch victim. Continue reading
When touching young Hollywood starlets, I do so enjoy the thrill of the chase and the very real chance of contracting a venereal disease. However, it is the more mature silver screen royalty who I enjoy pursuing most of all. This is particularly true of Oscar winners, because their skin is extra soft and they have that new car smell. But, much like Mel Gibson’s sanity, Oscar winners are hard to find. This is why I was so surprised and excited to have crashed a party recently, only to find myself staring down the ample bosom of Academy Award-winner Susan Sarandon. Continue reading
I have always been a proponent of the time-honored fashion mandate: We don’t wear leather in 90-degree weather and we don’t dress frilly when it is kind of chilly. Of course, as a celebrity you can be tempted to not always follow this golden rule, because if Marc Jacobs says the hottest trend for winter is an off-the-shoulder Glad sandwich bag, well then you wear an off-the-shoulder Glad sandwich bag… no matter what the temperature. Thankfully, there are some stars who know that classic style doesn’t come with a ziplock. One of those is Oscar-winner Jennifer Hudson. Continue reading