A quiet night at the movies. Denzel, Naomi, and I.

I swear that I am not a celebrity hound. I truly dislike that word. (Note to self: must invent a new word to convey the same meaning: famous, sometime attractive and often glamorous men and women who party for a living and often behave foolishly in public).

But there I was at the cinema on Friday, just trying to buy a ticket and a small glass of red. But these people wouldn't stop clicking away with their big lenses and powerful flashes. So I turned to looked and saw this:

Seemed a lot like Naomi Campbell and Denzel Washington. Indeed it was. Then they were milling around for a while talking about this and that. I thought of asking for a photo for the boys and girls back at the flugelbindery. But you know I'm the quiet, discreet type. And I have spent several years cultivating disinterested nonchalance. Why blow my cover now?

So then I went up to the film, only accidentally to walk into some sort of Q&A for American Gangster. I never did quite figure out what Naomi C was doing there. I suppose glam types hang out together? There were a lot of other tall, long-legged/muscular, well-tanned, and well-moussed types hanging about.

I just had my crisps and wine and went on my way. Ho hum. I've seen it all. (But still wishing I had asked for that pic!)

BB

This is not a blog about celebrity spotting. But...

This is truly not a blog about celebrity spotting. I'm really not very good at it. Proof of which is that in NY I only spotted 2 celebrities (I do truly hate that word) in 8 years: Michael Douglas and Charlton Heston. I would add Charlie Rose, but no one outside the US knows who he is. NY is crawling with them, and when I'm out with friends who have a better eye, they're picking them off like shooting fish in a barrel.

I was a little surprised by the Stella McCartney and Elton John sightings I had recently. In New York going to galleries never really led to run-ins with anyone famous, only those who want to be famous.

In any case, my friend P took me to an opening of a very fancy architecture exhibition. I went along for the good company and the plentiful champagne (yes, in that order!). As I was going in I spotted this man:

This is not a cosmic event, I know. But I it was interesting to contemplate whether he would get up to some Mr. Bean type antics. Naturally, I didn't take this picture myself. It would have spoiled the dignified, nonchalant, seen-it-all attitude I was trying to project. I can however report that he does look and dress pretty much as he does in the films and television shows, except he seems a bit better groomed and wears a jacket that has been washed in the Christian era.

I promise to find some more serious matters to blog on soon, such as how to survive in a London without ever buying yourself a drink (a similar thing can be achieved in NY, but using a very different strategy...)

Cheers,

BB

ART <+?=> CELEBRITY = did-i-underdress?

I began worrying the moment I stepped out of the house and was walking toward White Cube. My only previous experience of this in London was at Gagosian, where I had been to the opening of the Jeff Koons exhibition. On that occasion I had spotted Stella McCartney and a number of super/model types whose names I couldn't quite pin down. Since White Cube sits pretty high up (at the top?) of the pecking order of London galleries my worry was mounting that I had underdressed. True, why not think of these things before you leave the house? But I was in the uniform that could take me anywhere in New York: well-fitted jeans and a well-fitted black sweater, to which I added my own touch, a pair of gold and velvet shoes that I somehow or the other convinced myself completed the look. But of course I should have worried. Previously, at Gagaosian, I had noticed a proliferation of men and women dripping in designers. Men in the tie-off, immaculately tailored suit (that London pulls off so much better than NY) look. Women in everything from sexy co-worker to sequined glamor bombs looks.

This time around there were many of those, but also two other types. The eccentric trying-to-be-arty types wearing all sorts of crazy things. And then the just plain dowdy. And alas where did I fit into this triangle? In the very boring middle.

I haven't mentioned anything about the art, or about the Elton John sighting. The what? you say. Indeed, the man himself. I'm impressed by how A-list celebs come to art openings in London (albeit primo openings) and stand (if not mingle) with the masses at what are entirely open-to-the-public events. In London, people seem to be too discreet to gawk and just stare out of the corners of their eyes.

Oh yes, getting back to the art. Gary Hume. Pretty, sometimes. You'll have to look here. I couldn't grab the images, nor should I probably. Gloss paint on aluminum, in this case the media are the message exactly in terms of what you imagine of these materials. But sometimes pretty, let me not deny it.

These pics give you some sense of the scene.




Well Toto, I guess we're not in America anymore.

BB