Evidently, Mr. C., sporting a gray suit, is as fine as evah, according to my swooning Desk Fluted. "The camera doesn't do him justice," they sighed. "Because he's way hotter in person."
Duh. Like that's some kinda news-flash-a-rooney, but never mind.
Copulation-wise, I'm not sure if George is dating his Ocean's Thirteen costar Ellen Barkin, as some rags reported. Mr. C., see, is quite deft at not letting anybody know the nooky score--most often with those he's diddling! Also, the aging man-stud came solo to the nuptial do. So predictable. I mean, really, no big surprise there. The dashing former TV doc doesn't even bring dates to the friggin' Oscars, for gawd's sake.
However, even though George came alone, he nevertheless was dimply 'n' enterprising, as he found some right-on female company in fellow guest Renée Zellweger, who wore a black wrap dress. Gotta say, R.Z. is looking less frazzled than during her right-off-Kenny Chesney period. Seems to have calmed down a tad in the red-cheeked department--know what I mean?
Regardless, the former flames played it low key and took 45 minutes before even saying hi to each other. But then they started a chitchat session that was def worthy of reddening up anybody's cheeks, I'm tellin' ya.
And once that get-reacquainted session was outta the way, the twosome remained together the rest of the night, choosing to sit alone and chat instead of cuttin' the rug with other dancing guests, reported said dancers. Desk Fluted, indeed, gushed that G&R sure looked cozy and that Renée was smiling and acting mucho coy during their extended conversation/flirtfest.
Wonder if they continued things after the fete in a hotel room?
For the reportorial record, Clooney's repper said he knew nada about George rehooking up with Renée, in any fashion, over the weekend, and even if they had, "what's the problem with that?"
Absolutely none!
Less official campers who hang veddy loyally alongside G.C. tell me they wouldn't be surprised in the least if George was rekindling somethin' with the Cold Mountain cutie, as George and she are "always on and off." Besides, added the less sanctioned Clooney communicator, "George has been lonely lately. Yes, lonely."
What, cozying up with a brass boy with a nice ass doesn't do it for the hunky star? Go figure!
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, totin' home art, not kids, for once. The twosome stopped by Banksy's Barely Legal Art Show in downtown Hell-Ay, which included a live, brightly painted elephant as part of the exhibit. Brad & Ange bought eight pieces and were "not the brightest couple in the room," according to one witness who overheard them discussing art. Such damn snobs, those gallery types, I always say. Don't worry, you gorgeous twosome, you. Also in arty attendance: Beck, Kirsten Dunst and Giovanni Ribisi. Giving her own show--and then some--elsewhere was...
Courtney Love, singin' Nirvana to a bunch of chic salesgals at La Diavolina. Stupid and Contagious, a book by Caprice Crane, was on display at the boutique, and Court snatched it up. "You guys do realize what this says, right?" she asked, before singing the entire chorus of Smells Like Teen Spirit and pointing to the title when she reached the line, "stupid and contagious." Evidently, the reference to her late hub Kurt Cobain was enough to make her walk right out with the book (which the delighted store honeys gifted to Ms. L.). For the bitchy record, Court wasn't. Seems she's also thin (and sassy) again, thank gawd. Another excitable customer was...
Haylie Duff, takin' a night off from Hairspray to hit jewelry designer Stephen Dweck's party. Sky Studios in SoHo, New Yawk. Haylie, clad in a cream short-sleeve turtleneck, raved over his baubles and said she and Hilary had been fans forevah. The bash was hosted by Robert Verdi, who rocked an amethyst and gold ring worth 5K that was given to him by the designer. Also getting lucky around town was...
Moby, flocked by a harem of hotties. Sapa in InWhySee on Tuesday. The skinny songster stuck to bottled water, while the three babes downed Cosmojitos. After hangin' out until after midnight, they closed the joint. Wonder where the foursome moved their party to afterward? Actually, on second thought, I'd rather not know. You?
Two responses of Betty B.'s I found to be particularly alive: (1) that there should be no remake of Millionaire (I swear, these old divas are such snits; Liza Minnelli told me the same damn thing about Cabaret) and (2) that Ms. B. found Barbra Streisand's The Mirror Has Two Faces (in which Bacall starred) to be one of her best films.
Well, I have to say I agree. Streisand helped Bacall--nearly at the end of her career, even!--to finally get out of that glam cage she's forever been cast in and actually deliver a few gray-haired, meaty scenes for once. No wonder L.B. got nominated for an Academy Award that year.
But isn't it sad Streisand herself can't help herself just sweetly segue into the gray-haired years (I should talk!)? I mean, I hear the Lady S. is airbrushing herself out the wazoo for her new Tony Bennett DVD pics.
Oh, like everybody else doesn't do the same round here.