She's maneuvering the world of high fashion using instinct, experience and a WILD and ROWDY past!
DESI, BELLE, LOURDIS and I are holding court at our Thursday night watering hole, the Salon De Ning rooftop bar at the Peninsula Hotel. Andre’s here. Word on the street is he’s shooting a pilot for tv called AMERICAN ICON. A mix of AMERICA’S TOP MODEL and AMERICAN IDOL, it’s going to showcase people with talent who also look like models. Or people who look like models, but have no talent. He keeps glancing over at us. At me. I wonder what’s on his mind?
After dinner and dessert, André licks his spoon clean and I make a suggestion. He should approach Apple TV’s M2M-Made To Measure channel. Pitch a cooking show featuring Desi and himself. Have Anna as a guest. Jay Z and Bey. RiRi. Desi will cook and host his high society ladies! André squeals. “We’ll have dinner parties! And sparkling conversation!” They begin making plans. Sigh…I give it three episodes at best before these two queens try and stab each other. But it’s ALL GOOD for me. I can show up for the good eats —and fireworks—whenever I like. After all, I’m BFF of the chef!
Several weeks later Desi calls, interrupting an early evening playdate. He invites me to his home for an impromptu dinner. But Desi doesn’t do impromptu so right away I’m suspicious. I get dressed and taxi downtown, wondering what he’s got up that kimono sleeve of his. Surprise! Guess who’s also been invited? André. He’s bearing gifts from CARTIER and issuing grand apologies for using me as bait for his stupid show. American Icon wasn’t picked up by any network and relieved, I accept his mea culpa without a second thought. André is André. Whatcha gonna do?? But he’s been bitten by the producer bug. He wants to do a series now more than ever!
Winona’s lingerie is by NUBIAN SKIN
After another wardrobe change, I just happen to walk by and overhear André in a meeting with his staff. He tells them that Rory Dickinson has won the contest. It’s already been decided. Even before the judges vote! Well that’s it for me. There are no more lines left for him to cross in my book. I interrupt everything and QUIT his bullshit show on the spot! And André has the balls—the balls!— to be outraged. He threatens to sue. I threaten to counter. We’ve never had a fight like this. Not in twenty-five years!
Winona is wearing a CHANEL jacket.
Okay. Justin Timberlake annoys me. André knew that he would. And Smokey’s been acting a little pissy with me. Things didn’t end well between us and André knows that also. But this?? Putting me in the same room with JANICE DICKINSON?? We loath one another. And this too is a fact that André’s big ass knows ALL TOO WELL. The red-head performer is her nephew? Well. That’s unfortunate for him.
But I get it now. Finally. It’s crystal clear. Andre has raided our friendship and he’s using me—ME—as the bait to create drama and conflict on his set.
For the next group of contestants Trusilla is gone and we have a new judge. SMOKEY ROBINSON. He and I haven’t seen one another in over ten years. At least. Not since our little fling in Monaco during Grand Prix. Andre was there, too. It was a fun week. But will you look at him? Andre. He’s skulking around…in the shadows…watching…oh yeah…he’s up to something.
After a costume change, we’re back behind the desk and another beautiful young woman steps up to the microphone. She gives us her backstory, a troubled past, busted for shoplifting, dealing drugs, she reminds me of…me! But when she opens her mouth, she sounds like a cross between Adele and Eryka Badu. I’m impressed! Finally! Long-legged gorgeousness and real talent wrapped up in one milky chocolate package. But JT brings his hand to his mouth. He yawns.
The contestant is wearing BALMAIN
Andre is full of surprises. I didn’t realize we were filming today! Trusilla is my new best friend and we’re propped behind a big illuminated desk, along with JT, in front of a green screen. Pre-selected contestants come out and perform for us. They are either very attractive or very talented, but definitely not both. Where did Andre find these people? I hear better musicians on street corners every day!
JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE strolls in. Of all people! We side-eye each other. Mutual contempt. I’ll never get over the heat my girl Janet took after their Superbowl appearance. And how he left her to take it all alone. It’s been twelve years but I don’t care. Some things are just unforgivable. And Andre! He could have warned a sister! Wasn’t he at Elton John’s Oscar party when JT and I had words? It was all over the gossip rags the next day. He called me a troublemaker. A has-been. And I called him a punk-ass bitch.
We’ve got bad energy. This is not good. So why is Andre lurking in the background with a smile on his face?
Okay. I’ll admit to not attending an anger management session in a few months but the moment I enter the tv studio, one of my fellow judges starts giving me her coffee order! Trusilla doesn’t have a clue who I am. I know who she is. The latest flavor-of-the-month pop sensation, her face and curvy body has been plastered everywhere. But come on. Do I even LOOK like the coffee lady? In Victoria Beckham?? Andre finds it amusing. I don’t.