Hot girls, man-cleavage and the awe-inducing Celine Rattray

Paula Froelich and Celine Rattray, producer of THE ROMANTICS

Is it terribly wrong that I find Lyle Lovett insanely awesome and hot? So the other night I finally got to hang with my pal Celine Rattray, who produced THE ROMANTICS and another flick here. Fun Fact: Celine started her career at HBO and then started Plum Pictures with her pal Galt Niederhoffer (whose daddy Victor was in foreign exchange and blew up the Thai Baht in the 90’s) and other friend Daniella – they kicked ass and now Celine is leaving to partner with Peter Fricking Guber. I mean – that’s amazing. (Galt will focus on directing now and not sure what Daniella is doing. I mean – I don’t even know her last name, so…). Celine always makes me feel like I need to revise my 5 year plan (which currently consists of  curing Karl Froelich the wonder dachshund of his grudge-pooping habit, nursing my liver back to life and trying to avoid turning into a complete stereotype).

So Celine and I decide to catch up, get a drink before hitting the Variety party at the St. Regis at Deer Valley. We go to the Caledonian Hotel – my new favorite place in town – and meet the producer of RESTREPO, Nick Quested. We then toodle off to the Variety party, which was absurd. Upon arrival in a taxi, they tried to stop us from getting out of the fricking cab. “All full. Everyone’s already here.” My ass. Don’t they know who I am?! I mean, who wouldn’t want a fun-employed, slightly drunk blogger at their party? They clearly had no idea what kind of tenacity they were dealing with. Celine and I were in 10 minutes later thanks to TJ Allers and Woolrich. Several observations:

  • I was concerned when something called a “funicular” was involved. Several party rules I always adhere to include never check your coat (it blocks a smooth and quick exit) and, just like with would be murderers and rapists – NEVER leave your original position. Don’t go to a party that isn’t in the original building and you cant rely on your own transportation to leave. It’s like doing a boat party on one of those party boats around Manhattan. You want to get off and they’re like, “Sure, in three hours.” Trapped.
  • Most of the (straight) men there were sporting a rather disturbing facial hair trend of large bushy beards. Maybe they were trying to keep warm, maybe they were emulating the Hasids in HOLY ROLLERS, or maybe they were just trying to be Osama Bin Laden Ironic, but wow. Note to crowd: Being a bear is fine. I love a burly man. But let’s not pair it with eyeliner. Or a Salvador Dali-esque mustache.
  • There was a faaabulous queen wearing a silk leopard print button down paired with a murse and a rather large watch chain, black jeans and riding boots. I mean. Heaven.
  • Why are St. Regis employees all German and named Rolf? Scary. Especially if you’re a Jew. Just sayin (“I am sixteen going on seventeen….”)

In all, the party was fun and semi-worth the funicular ride, but not as good as seeing Lyle Lovett at the Village at the Yard. I mean, he’s a fricking legend, people!

Other observations from the week:

  • Bill Gates is here hanging at the Bing Bar sans wife, Melinda, but accompanied everywhere by like four hot girls. Yeah, they may be a PR team, but why they gotta be so young and hot? And overheard at a photo op: LADY: Can I kiss your cheek (to a desk top computer mogul at the Bing Bar). Mogul: Yeah, can I grab your ass?
  • Overheard at the Bing Bar: (tall man wearing a snap front shirt opened to his navel showing serious man-cleavage and sniffling): “oh man, I’m getting so sick. I partied too hard and caught a cold.” Woman next to him: “Maybe its because you forgot to button your shirt.”
  • Overheard at Sundance Channel: Maybe the altitude is getting to me, but I just found Philip Seymour Hoffman attractive… then again, maybe it was just the Oscars in his pants.
  • Do not under any circumstances try to cut a line at a GLAAD or Prop 8 party. You will get cut with a blunt coke nail.
  • Gigi left town but not before “Dyiiiiin!” because Ryan Gosling came into the gifting suite at the Lift to get shot by WireImage and, “OH mah gawd, he was right by me and started talkin’ to Chanel whatshername from Gossip Girl and they took a picture! Y’all don’t understand – he never takes pictures and it was so amazin’ – he has Lash Allure MD on one side and a signage for Organicare on the other! Seriously. Amazing. I sent it off Us Weekly and Life & Style like two seconds ago.” So. There you go. Gigi is happy. And sadly, on her way back to Dallas.
  • The Muscle Milk fridge is being auctioned off (they shnookered all these celebs into signing it) for a charity for gym-fitness for inner city kids. Like, ok, I get it: you may have to be poor, but you don’t have to be fat? Someone was overheard saying, “I don’t have any more milk in my muscle.” He was trying to say he was tired, but it just lent credence to my whole “named your product after a gay porn doc” belief.
  • Sadly, not a lot of buyers running around. Massive grumbling that while there are really good films/docs here, only two have been bought. Guess that economic downturn is still continuing no matter what Ben Bernanke says.