November 7, 2000
Today, my fellow Americans, you will pick a new ruler for our fancy little kingdom, and your decisions will affect the way people live, breathe, and entertain for the next four years. Of course, I have been way too focused on other glamorous effluvia to be bothered with such seriousness and "issue"-related nonsense. Who can think of the nation's future when you have an exclusive concert experience to attend?
And not just any concert, mind you.
We're talking Madonna. Like a virgin, like a prayer, like a fabulon!
I was one of the fortunate few invited to the hotly anticipated Madonna concert at Roseland on Sunday. Actually, it wasn't technically a concert at all, but rather a "party" (meaning she could get away with performing only five songs). A fair share of the tickets were given away by radio stations across the country (and even some in London!) so the crowd was a grotesquely mixed bag of ditzy, drunk teenagers; middle-aged women wearing shoulder pads and appliques; drunk gay boys in cowboy hats; burly New Jersey men in ill-fitting suits; and overdressed downtown celebrities like drag star Kevin Aviance (who was so wasted he could hardly stand), and former club kid Richie Rich, wearing roller-skates, white fur, and not much else. (Hey, will somebody please tell him that it's over?!)
But the real glamour wasn't on the floor of Roseland, no sirree. The mezzanine overlooking the lively throng was literally crammed full of celebrities. You couldn't tell the cocktail waitresses from the supermodels! As Deep Dish revved the crowd with some truly fierce dance tunes, the celebrities peeked their heads over the mezzanine only to be met with thousands of adoring screams! Rosie O'Donnell aimed her expensive-looking camera into the audience and smiled condescendingly. (She was sitting at a table of really handsome looking women, if you get my drift.) More adoring and more adorable was Gwyneth Paltrow, hair pinned up beautifully in the back, flashing a huge smile to the crowd and snapping pictures with a disposable camera. Gwyneth was seated with Fiona Apple and a couple other skinny women. (The cocktail table they sat at probably weighed more than the four of them combined!) For a brief moment, I think I actually got the Gwyneth mystique. She was ravishing, simply ravishing.
Swarming around the blonde were other stars of a dimmer wattage: Donatella Versace, looking a bit like a Muppet for some reason; Ben Stiller, who really should get a new haircut; Danny DeVito (why was he there and not you? Good question); and Dolce and Gabbana (who redesigned Roseland in the appropriate cowgirl decor).
And just when you thought that Gwyn would suck focus from Maddie herself, suddenly the glorious entourage of Madonna accessories walked in! Taking the table next to Gwyn were Guy Ritchie (looking vaguely uncomfortable); sperm donor / fitness trainer Carlos Leon (dashing and so gleeful you would have thought this was a concert for him); club owner / former lesbian Ingrid Cesares; a couple dancers and models; and, looking like Shirley Temple's bitchier, younger sister, Lourdes Ciccone herself! The angelic little rugrat was completely comfortable with a legion of gay men below her crying out her name in adulation. Like mother, like daughter! Rocco, however, was not to be seen anywhere. What an ungrateful little bitch he is!
Originally, the bill for this "party" originally included Perry Ferrell and Beth Orton, yet they were nowhere to be found. Instead, Deep Dish was followed by bluesy rocker Everlast, who brought the enthusiasm of the room to a complete, utter halt! It wasn't his fault; why did Maddie invite a rocker to a dance club? In fact, I pitied him as he looked out into the audience and replied nervously, "Gee, there's a lot of people here tonight!" Yes, dear, and none of them came to see you! He gave a marvelous performance, sure, but the crowd was now foaming at the mouth in anticipation of the Material Girl. His songs went by virtually unnoticed!
Finally, this nuisance drifted from the stage, and everyone prepared for Madonna's entrance. However, as the opening chords swelled, Lourdes' mom was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, on a smaller stage toward the side of the room, a gigantic American flag unveiled several glittery cacti and a beat-up white pickup truck. My first thought was, holy crap, my dad's here! Instead, five go-go boys garbed like randy cowboys leapt from the vehicle to gyrate. And, rising from the truck bed like a divine hillbilly...Madonna herself!
After the first song, she leapt into the crowd (or, more exactly, into the open arms of dancers) who carried her to the main stage, where she lost her cowboy shirt to reveal an even more daring costume choice: a black T-shirt with the words "Britney Spears" emblazoned in silver! Was she poking fun at the teen queen or passing the torch, an admission that this inferior little pop twit is the new Madonna? It's unclear what she meant, though she did dedicate a song to Ms. Spears. (The dedicated song, curiously, was "Do You Know What It Feels Like For A Girl?" Maddie, doll, what are you trying to say?)
Flanked by dancers, Madonna performed a total of five songs -- a couple more than originally promised. Thankfully, she refrained from playing the acoustic guitar -- something she unfortunately did on her disastrous David Letterman appearance that Friday -- and left the strumming to her producer, Mirwais. (Ooo la la but he's a hottie!) On another song, she was accompanied by a montage of dozens of her previous incarnations. At that very moment, she became more worshipped than that other Madonna woman. I literally saw one raving individual split in half and explode into a cloud of confetti! (Actually, confetti was dropped from above during the final number -- her hit single "Music" -- so I might have been confused.)
Madonna looked as gorgeous and fit as ever. After the concert, there were rumors that Ms. Ciccone and clan headed over to Eugene's for an afterparty (actually, it was a party for something else that then became an afterparty), but I have it from a reliable source that she jumped on a plane back to London immediately after the concert. God forbid she stay in the United States one second longer!
Breakup Girl created by Lynn Harris & Chris Kalb