of the September 2007 issue of Vanity Fair
There's something very 2000 about this when Gisele was the end all be all of supermodels. Interesting to think who are the big girls now (Sasha, Stam, Gemma, Coco, etc.), and at one time this leggy Brazilian reigned the industry with her refreshing and not so skeletal beauty.
Another reason to pick up the Style Issue is an amusing story about the L.A. club scene boys that bed all the Hollywood bad girls. Excerpts from Nancy Jo Sales's "I'm With Her!":
The leader of the pack:
"This party in April at Club LAX is called Banana Split, and Lindsay is its cherry—the biggest star in the room and hence the object of some speculation, even among the type of arty party kids who get their gossip from Nylon in lieu of The National Enquirer.
'You think that's really water in there?' a flat-eyed club girl asks me, watching Lindsay drink clear liquid from a plastic bottle.
The suspicious waif is repeating tabloidian claims that Lindsay has been sneaking spirits—something Lindsay has denied.
She got out of an L.A. rehab called Wonderland in January; in May she'll enter Promises in Malibu.
Her father got out of a New York prison called the Collins Correctional Facility in March (he did 22 months for attempted assault and D.U.I.). Her mother has recently been seen posing in a fashion magazine, declaring, 'If you can button it and clip it when you're in your 40s, you're going out!'
And now Lindsay's coming over to me, looking a bit edgy.
'Who are you writing for, honey?' she demands, smoky-voiced, spotting my notepad.
She's va-va-voom beautiful, but looks like she could use a night off.
I tell her, and ask why she cares.
'I'm sorry,' she then says sweetly, shaking her long dyed-platinum locks. 'It's just people can be so mean. See, I'm not working right now, so I'm just having fun for the next two weeks until I start working again, and things can get so misconstrued and people can be such liars—'"
This is exactly how I'd imagine them to be:
"I'm surprised to see Nicole when she walks into glammy, dark, and cavernous Teddy's with Joel, one night in April, when he and I have an appointment. She wasn't supposed to come, but it's nice that she did.
She looks incredible. She looks … like Paris. It's a dazzling sort of magic trick, the way Nicole, 25, has transformed herself into this chic gamine—tonight in a little black dress and five-inch heels.
'What's up, bitch,' I say, adopting her Simple Life lingo.
'What's up, bitch,' she says flatly.
She immediately orders French fries. The rumors of her eating disorder are dispelled. Joel orders a burger and a drink. He's the quintessential Lord, dressed in his usual black, his arms laced with tattoos, his hair studiedly spiky. He's 28.We talk about L.A. nightlife and what's hot. 'It's all about the freshest kids,' says Joel, enthusiastic. 'The 19-year-old dude at like, Cinespace"—another Steve Aoki/Dim Mak hangout—'who has the freshest sneakers he made himself, some crazy scarf he made, and you're like, That kid's fresh! That's what it's all about right now.'
Nicole listens, grinning her inscrutable frown-grin. I ask her if she liked Good Charlotte before meeting Joel. (They say they met 'through a friend.')
'No,' she says. 'I'd never heard of them.'
'She likes classic rock,' offers Joel.
'I like the Doors,' says Nicole.
'Do you like Good Charlotte?,' I ask her.
'Now I do,' she says.
Joel throws a heavy arm around her.
She frown-grins.
I ask if it's true they're engaged.
Joel says, 'No, no, no.'
Nicole shakes her head.
Nobody says anything for a long minute.
I think this one is my favorite:
"Before Morton, Lindsay dated Stavros Niarchos, the floppy-haired Greek shipping heir best known for also dating the anorexia-surviving Olsen twin (Mary-Kate) and Paris, who was in his car the night he was stopped by cops in L.A. for driving erratically, and delivered his signature line, 'Baby, I'm fucking scaring myself!'"
Makes you feel good about having a college degree, right? For more click here.
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