» French kissing
Katie is learning to love the benefits of her job, and they come thick and fast at Cannes
It’s getting harder and harder to hate my job. Even if I wanted to. My flatmate comes home – a cloud of grey – collapsing on the sofa and droning on and on about the day he’s had at work.
He complains the sky is dark, the commute is long, the filing is dull and the whole corporate nightmare has added to his general state of unshifting misery. But I’m not there to hear him, because I’m lying on a beach in Cannes soaking up the sunshine and giggling into a raspberry Capriani.
Day one in Cannes and I’m topping up my tan in a £20million mansion with a free bar while waiters circle the pool with plates of sushi canapés and freshly made cocktails. The only thing I’m working on is my tan, so tonight when I slip on my heels and a LBD I’ll look sun kissed enough to blend in with the glitterati that will be partying on the beaches. In London the parties can get predictable. Here I’ve been catapulted into a whole new plane.
“I’m topping up my tan in a £20million mansion with a free bar while waiters circle the pool“
Tiptoeing up the red carpet I’m flanked by an ocean of autograph seekers and a wall of paparazzi, all teetering on different level step ladders and flashing a million bulbs into the night sky at once.
As we walk the carpet to the party Julianne Moore is ahead of me, Cate Blanchett’s already in and if rumours are to be believed then Mischa Barton is on her way.
The red carpets ends in a wall of smoke – a white tunnel filled with swirling wisps that open at the beach front.
Two dance floors are ahead – one is fringed with mountains of soft white beanbags and in the other a petite woman with long wavy hair and a short-as-hell dress is hitting the decks. Oh, it’s Juliette Lewis.
I lean up to where she’s standing – looked stunning in a short black flapper style 1920s dress and long pearl necklace, her long wavy hair framed with a thick fringe – and ask her for a song:
“Juliette! Are you talking requests? How about some Madonna?”
“I haven’t got any Madonna, I haven’t got any new stuff at all, we’ve only got old stuff with us, Lou Reed, jazz, disco. Anyway who needs Madonna when you’ve got Wild Cherry!” She says as ‘Play that funky Music‘ starts and she runs to the dance floor.
Is she going to become a DJ?
“It’d be good as a side gig” she says, “I like getting people to shake their ass!”
“Its not my record collection here anyway. I’m singing in San Francisco tomorrow and we’re flying at seven in the morning. We’re flying straight over there.“
“She won’t sleep,“ interrupts her male companion.
“That’s pretty hardcore.“ I grin, noting it’s already 2am.
“Oh I’ve been much more hardcore than that!“ she giggles, and she’s off.
Mischa Barton skims past me in a long white gown and I stop her to ask about the US elections:
“I’m backing Hilary all the way, I’m definitely voting for Hilary, of course because she’s a woman but it’s not just as obvious as that. It’s a complicated political process but I can’t go into all that right now,“ she says and disappears to the bar.
On a pier covered in beanbags that juts out to sea I spot Julianne Moore, munching on canapes, and head to talk to her – after all the party is in her honour, her new film Blindness was premiered today. But as I get closer it seems she’s segregated by a VIP rope.
“Hey Julianne, how’s it going?”, I call across.
“I don’t believe this. Julianne is not speaking to the press,“ complains her PR, whisking her through the private party and out to a waiting car.
Cate Blanchett is leaving, Petra Nemcova didn’t make it and although I’ve heard that Bar Refaeli – Leonard DiCaprio’s girlfriend – is in the area I don’t know what she looks like anyway.
But I don’t care. We kick off our shoes and head for the dance floor where Juliette Lewis is dancing alone. It’s only day one and the party’s just starting.
