It always creeps up on me…the Oscars. Already, Hollywood Blvd is shut off at Highland. I know this because I had to go to the Roosevelt Hotel this evening to interview Amanda Scheer Demme. As I waited for her in the lobby it was impossible not to notice the dozens of media types, wandering around with lanyards and passes and cameras. The Roosevelt is right across from the Kodak Theatre where Sunday's festivities will be held, and as I sat, waiting, I asked myself why, yet again, I have utterly failed to secure any kind of awards party action.
Last year me and my blond bombshell friend Caelin crashed the Esquire party at the Abbey in West Hollywood. We were walking by the bar, dressed in civilian clothing, when some friendly cops outside engaged us in conversation. They promised to get us in – so long as we went home and donned sexy gowns. Why the hell not we thought, and 20 minutes later we returned in full Oscar drag and received a police escort down the red carpet. My fabulous gay model friend Michael Brown joined us and after a few hours draining the open bar we decided it was time to pay Elton John a visit, at his annual Oscar party across the street in the Pacific Design Center.
Outside were hundreds of photographers. We spotted Pamela Anderson. And the guy from Entourage. Yup, this was definitely the right place. We marched up to the check-in desk whereupon Michael performed his “I'm Michael Brown from New York, don't you know who I am?” schtick. They didn't know who he was.
Then I spotted a paparazzi and notorious gate crasher called John Barsky, exiting the PDC laden with goodie bags. “How on earth did you get in?” I asked him. Easy, he said. Just find a red Sharpie and slash your wrist. That, apparently, was all it took to get into Elton's bash. I had, sadly, left my red Sharpie at home. “Next year will be my Oscar year” I promised myself.
So here we are, Oscar Weekend 2006, and not an Oscar party invite in sight. One of the few interesting prospects I do have is an Oscar viewing party at the Egyptian Theatre (it will be the first time a television broadcast has been screened there). Possibly more entertaining will be the sight of my fellow Style Councilor Linda patroling the red carpet for the LA Weekly with Sir Mark The Cobra Snake. Cobra will be in his usual John McEnroe attire and Linda will be wearing hotpants and rollerskates. “Why don't you just try crashing Vanity Fair,” Linda suggested when I poured my woes upon her. “What, along with every other loser no-life journalist in town? I don't think I can cope with the rejection…”
Or maybe I can…Ladies and gentlemen, the weekend has just begun…
Posted by Caroline Ryder