Los Angeles
When I boarded the plane for Los Angeles in New York last Friday to attend the Vanity Fair Oscar party, as well as several others, the beautiful Uma Thurman was just ahead of me, looking every inch the star (she is, after all, 6ft tall) even though she was sans maquillage. She sweetly turned to me and said, ‘I hear you and your husband are not sitting together — I’m happy to change seats with you if it helps.’ I thanked her, and explained it was OK, because the airline had just bumped Rosie Perez so that Percy and I could sit together.
Each year, before the Oscar ceremonies, every designer in the world jostles to give a gown to one of the precious few A-list actresses, because if she is photographed on the red carpet it’s worth tens of thousands of dollars in free publicity or, should she win, hundreds of thousands.
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