Tuesday, February 2, 1999
Pretend this is 1984 and you are reading Gregoire not from a well-designed Internet site but from the pages of your local tabloid journaux. Who would I, as a celebrity romance columnist, be consumed with? Royals, of course, crowns and crowns of royals: homely white people with no actual political influence who capture headlines by merely walking into a room holding hands, smiling simperingly, commenting on polo or sick African babies. Romance never looked so inbred!
Nowadays, however, the Royal Fam is falling in love with far less panache. Since the much-mourned passing of the Queen of Hearts -- and Sarah Ferguson's ignominious transformation into product spokeswoman -- the halls of Buckingham have become practically sterile. The latest example of this is baby-faced Prince Edward's recent engagement to Sophie Rhys-Jones, whom Brit tabloids are desperately, scrapingly trying to compare to Diana. The jury -- or barrister, or whatever wig-wearing entity they've got over there -- is still out on Sophie's ability to charm the press in the same way as The Icon ... though the not-so-Little Prince is proving to be even more boorish than ever. Our Eduardo is serious in his pursuit of a career in journalism -- shades of Kennedy, anyone? -- and has produced some dry-as-a-month-old-crumpet docus for the BBC. At a press conference for his latest, called "Crown and Country," which explores some of London's more intriguing historical sites (Austin Powers' love shack?), Ed, well, actually discussed the project, artfully dodging inquiries about his impending nuptials. Okay, so he certainly covets a lower-profile reign than the rest of the royals. Mah-velous -- who can blame him? But couldn't he have seemed even a smidge interested in getting married? Ed, bubbie, whereís that hi-pro glow?
Meanwhile, Eddie's brother Charles displayed that other triple-named tiara-grabber Camilla Parker Bowles as -- seen officially Together in public for the first time -- they rushed from the Ritz to a waiting limousine. I know we're all still playing harps for La Di, but I say good show, ole chap, for finally having the guts to carry on in front of the camera -- as if to say, "You blokes don't intimidate me!" I don't get the Camilla thing, Chuck (as Breakup Girl would say, it's the first time in history anyone's dumped the sweet young thing for the frumpy housewife), but cheers to you.
After Ever After
American princess Drew Barrymore has never had a problem professing new love to an adoring public including eight million teenage girls, Breakup Girl (who has confessed to me that the only reason she hasn't bothered to copy Drew's hair, color by color, style by style, is that her superhero dress code includes a coif-flattening cap), and ...moi. As of last month, Barrymore-more-more was still hawking her romance to jut-jawwed hottie Luke Wilson, her co-star in that odd little film "Home Fries." Now, it seems, poor Luke has been laid to waste by Drew's newest fry guy: none other than Jeremy Davies, best known as the cowardly grunt in "Saving Private Ryan." Perhaps Gregoire should take Luke's side here -- I'm sure he didn't know what he was getting into -- but I'm arrested by every impetuous triviance of this half-pint daisy-tressed goddess. I hope, however, she doesn't eat Jeremy alive. Think she got turned on by his breakthrough performance in "Spanking The Monkey?"
Breakup Girl: The Dance Mix
Okay, so you've had a bad break up, you're heartbroken and you want to forget all about him? What do you do? That's right: make a hardcore gay-friendly dance single! Former Hair Club recruit Demi Moore, mere months after a messy break-up with Bruce Willis, has been doing many things new and different. The most drastic: recording some voice-overs for a new dance single to be released this month on Tommy Boy Records. Gregoire has been privy to some of the preliminary mixes, which have a dark house sound perfect for the dance floor. Tres magnifique. A moody Moore repeats "I love you, I love myself..." and later whispers "I have died to myself and I live for you / I've disappeared from myself and my attributes...." Bruce, WHAT DID YOU DO TO THIS WOMAN?!
Scruffy brooder Stephen Dorff seems to have some sort of obsession with human mannequins. Apparently, he scours fashion shows with buddies, ogles the empty-eyed beauties, and racks them up on his bedpost. He's been seen about town with Louis Vuitton mannequin Rhea Durham, but they may have broken up by the time you reach the end of this sentence.
ABC has pulled the plug on the cult/BG fave "Cupid," starring Jeremy Piven as a less-than-cherubic god of love. Though I can't profess to watching the show, many of my friends have been quite disturbed by this decision. (And considering what Gregoire has heard tell about more-than-cherubic relations between Piven and ABC entertainment head Jamie Tarses, this news stuns even moi.) But Jeremy, don't fill out that McDonald's application quite yet. Trust me, somebody -- UPN, Pax, Lifetime, BG-TV -- will pick this show up.
So, we all saw Gwyn and Ben sitting together all nice and friendly like at the Golden Globes last weekend, and we saw Ben smiling like he really cares when Gwyn thanked him through Best Actress tears. But it wasn't until Mr. Manchest stepped on stage together with his ex-girlfriend Matt Damon to present the Best Screenplay award that we were fully able to assess the damage of the breakup. While Matt's breathtaking radiance seemed positively brought to you by Mattel, Ben looked untucked, unshaved, unrested -- in a word, post-apocalyptic. Depending on which story you believe, it was either he who dumped Ms. Muse (due to a possible affair with Viggo Mortenson), or it was she who gave him the boot (after reading some incriminating e-mails from Ben to friends). Either way, the split seems to have completely deflated his young, well-preened ego.
Ben, I know I've not been tres sympathetic to you in the past, but I can't bear to see you like this. Next week, mon frere, Gregoire will prescribe for you a new game plan for future love affairs. I will help you see to it that the heart behind those puffed-out pecs will never be stepped on so publicly again.
Until then, readers, keep Ben in your prayers and have a gimlet on me,
Breakup Girl created by Lynn Harris & Chris Kalb