Young Americans
The American Music Awards hit town last week, and so did the requisite rush of corporate-sponsored ragers, as always eager to take advantage of the celebutard surplus. We’ve got fete-hopping down to a science at this point, but it was impossible to hit up all the ho-downs in Hollywood last week. GQ’s shindig at Chateau Marmont, Angeleno mag’s masquerade mash Petit Ermitage, Samsung’s Behold II launch with Katy Perry at Blvd. 3 and US Weekly’s Young Hot Hollywood wing-ding at Voyeur. We opted for the last two both on hump-night, but after the Samsung soiree all that remained at Voyeur’s velvet ropes was a pack of Sharpie-wielding autograph hounds and paparazzi milling about outside. Guess we’ll actually have to join the sequined masses at one of the dance clubs there to see what the new owners — from Vegas — have done to the once beloved Peanuts/7969, where we did door duty (English Acid in ’89) and frequented (Sin-a-matic, Velvet, Grandville in the ’90s) before it closed. Partying with Perry was ultimately worth missing the other mobs. Russell Brand’s new squeeze was rocking an ultrashort red Brian Lichtenberg minidress, but that didn’t stop Perry from spazzing about, spewing full-throttle vox or getting on all fours to “kiss a girl” by the stage. With literally gallons of confetti punctuating the vivacious set, this one didn’t feel like another half-assed play-for-pay marketing gig. The AMA broadcast Sunday, however (with the exception of Glambert), was another story.
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