CITY Issue 52

I’VE ASKED CISCO ADLER ABOUT HIS EXPOSED GENITALIA AND REPORTED ON JOEL MADDEN DURING THE HEIGHT OF THE NICOLE RICHIE ‘PREGNANCY RUMORS.’ BUT MORE INTERESTING THAN THE SCANDALS I’VE COVERED, IS HOW EASILY, I’VE DISCOVERED, ‘CELEBRITY’ IS BOUGHT AND SOLD. Monroe and Joe DiMaggio could canoodle undisturbed at the bar of the Cape Cod Room, and where Gwyneth Paltrow said she loved to visit for the simple fact that there’s “no paparazzi.” But those days are long gone, much to the dismay of Paltrow, who happened to land in the Windy City during the three-ring circus otherwise known as Brangelina. The filming of Wanted beckoned photographers from as far as London who sped through our one-way streets in a fury, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jolie and company. Like a modern day Irv Kupcinet, I’ve covered many celebrities fresh off a scandal—I’ve asked Cisco Adler about his exposed genitalia, sat next to a somber Chris Robinson who had just discovered that his actress wife had cheated on him with Owen Wilson, and reported on Joel Madden during the height of the Nicole Richie “pregnancy rumors.” But more interesting than the scandals I’ve covered is how easily, I’ve discovered, “celebrity” is bought and sold. I’ve worked with publicists so hungry to make a new client—a restaurant, a nightclub, a sneaker line—hot, that they’ve introduced me to unwitting celebs as a “cousin” or a “friend.” But don’t fall for stars’ “woe is me” act just yet—they too use the paparazzi for their advantage. When crystal-clear photographs taken of Lindsay Lohan in rehab surfaced (The Big Book so carefully propped between her fingers), it seemed as if the paparazzi had crossed the line yet again. The photo op, turns out, was a lucrative deal made by the starlet and a shutterbug pal of hers. Selling the staged photos to the tabloids, LiLo made a nice chunk of change while keeping herself in the public eye. “Celebrities call us themselves when they have a story they want out there,” one tabloid reporter told me. “Many celebrities also have paparazzi’s phone numbers on speed dial in their cell phone. The day after Lindsay Lohan’s second DUI arrest, Britney Spears got in her car and circled the scene of where paparazzi were searching for Lohan. It was obviously a ploy to be photographed.” Still, there’s an underlying sadness to the business of celebrity promotion. One night, while covering the summer’s biggest rock festival in Chicago, I waltzed into the Hard Rock Hotel, where a Hollywood publicist pushed past the young rock stars posing on the red carpet, and grabbed me by the arm. “You’re Kira, right?” she asked hastily. I said that I was, not stopping to question how she knew that (a good publicist knows everything). Pulling me past Perez Hilton, through the sea of black skinny jeans and toward the VIP area, she explained that she represented a high-profile client who had agreed to talk to me. She ushered me into a hallway and told me to wait. It was soon revealed to me that the “high-profile client” I was waiting for was a young and talentless blonde who often graced the pages of the kind of magazine I was reporting for. Every five minutes the frantic publicist would approach me while the starlet chain-smoked in a corner booth. “I’m really sorry—just two more minutes, she really wants to talk to you.” I shrugged my shoulders and decided to get drunk—stopping to talk to Danny Masterson in the hallway (something that sounded like, “You call yourself DJ Mom Jeans—yeah, sweet man,” escaped my lips…), before I befriended a somewhat predatory Hollywood agent who gladly kept the Red Bull–and-vodkas flowing. As often as the DJ changed tracks, the weary publicist flew by and apologized or excitedly moved me from place to place. At some point, I started to feel sorry for her. She’s clearly a professional who has been working her entire life to become a bona fide publicist for a big name—even if the “big name” is a young woman whose accomplishments pale in comparison to her own, a young woman famous for her strings of bad relationships and late-night partying, but famous all the same. As I peered into the lounge, watching the young starlet polish off another Johnnie Walker before turning to make out with her pop-star boyfriend, the absurdity of the situation was suddenly overwhelming. The publicist was dissolving into a state of complete panic while trying desperately to cater to a client who’s 20 years her junior. So concerned was she that she approached the celeb’s table with an embarrassing timidity. God forbid that questions concerning petty things—like an interview with a major magazine— distract the celebrity from her last swig of Scotch. Still, the publicist knows that, ultimately, it’s not about the Hollywood blonde—it’s about business. Why? A few weeks later, when I talk to Brian Sugar, CEO of Sugar Publishing (which includes celebrity gossip website Popsugar .com), he tells me commoditization has something to do with it. “We used to be on the top in terms of cars and computers, but over time these things have moved to other countries,” he says. “Someone in another country can’t knock off Paris Hilton. Our only export now is our celebrities. We’re the leading world exporter. We’ve chosen something that can’t be copied. Germany can make a better car, not a better celebrity.” Which makes me think back to the kid paparrazo waiting outside Hyde in L.A., camera at the ready, another cog in the PR machine. Sure, he was on summer vacation and just looking to make a little pocket money, but something tells me that—like most of his classmates—he’s not exactly on the path to a career in mechanical engineering. I’m guessing the talentless blondes he’s photographing aren’t either. CITY 49

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of CITY Issue 52

CITY Issue 52 Contents Letter from CITY Our Friends Action Wanted City Moment In Rogue Fit The Amused Bouche Fast Food Must Haves Hot Wheels Idol Handlers Design Public Affairs Pluck of the Draw Novel Ideas Monster's Belle Not Guilty The Understudies The Hunger Elastique Where to Buy It Socials Icon

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