Tuesday, March 16, 2004
My date with Perry Farrell: So. Unbelievably. Best.
You have no idea how completely freakin' cool this day was, and on so many different levels, too. God, where to start ...
Wait! I know! Let's start with how hot I looked; for someone who lives in yoga pants and sweatshirts (and dyes in the summer), it's always an adventure when I get decked out. But the simple white sweater from Old Navy, the black dress pants, the rose/orange dyed silk scarf from Israel, the genuine pearl stud earrings and, of course, the red, 3-1/2 inch Manolo slingbacks served me well. Hair? Perfect. Makeup? It enhanced, not hindered. (You know how sometimes you wake up and realize that makeup is just not going to help you and, in some cases, make it worse? Didn't happen today. Zits were sufficiently covered and everything.) What can I say? I was hot.
Got to the Hilton about 15 minutes before Perry was supposed to speak (took the Outer Drive downtown since every road between here and Chicago is a disaster) and was warmly welcomed by my former colleagues, most of whom didn't recognize me at first. I'd like to think it was because I was too hot for words, but more likely it was because I've gained weight. Or it could be because I was wearing my contacts. Anyway, my girl Kaffy, who still works at IEG, escorted me to the Continental Ballroom, where Mr. Farrell was giving his keynote. I was told I could sit anywhere I wanted, so I chose a table that was not too close, but far enough up front that I wouldn't have to watch him on the big sceeen.
About 15 minutes after I sat down, the lights went down, and a video higlighting Lollapalooza 2003 roared onto the screen. Since it wasn't in a This-is-what-it-is kind of format, it was funny watching the sponsorship people so not getting it, so not sure whether to laugh at the hijinks or whether to admit they were frightened of what was going to come next. I mean, hey! I can see Perry killing the $1,500 conference buzz for the 40-something Norah Jones set populating it.
And then, a little haltingly, he walked in.
For some reason, I was totally expecting him to be in a black suit with exaggerated pin stripes, kinda like the one Dave Navarro wore on his wedding day to Carmen. But I was at least in the ballpark: The man walked in wearing a well-tailored, vintage gray pin-striped suit with a dusty pink shirt and matching tie. I know, right? Much more conservative than I anticipated. And yeah, he really is that skinny. Couldn't tell how tall he is, but way thin. And totally out of his element talking to a bunch of business people.
But damned if he didn't pull it off.
I'm not going to go into what he talked about, because I was covering it, but aside from the fact that you could tell he was like whoa, this is so not my thing, he delivered a thoughtful, intelligent speech THAT I GOT TO SEE AND YOU DIDN'T! Bwahahahahahahahaha!
But it only got better from there. See, after he finished, I went to say hi to Lesa, the owner of the company, and to thank her for letting me sit in. And get this: She and her sister Laren, who also works for the company, told me that they thought Perry would be dropping in on the Conrad Hilton Suite for the exclusive cocktail party before the evening festivities and that if I WANTED TO GO, THEY WOULD GIVE ME A VIP PASS UP THERE! Holy Shit, right!?!?! I was stunned -- and totally unprepared; here I thought I was going to be listening to him speak, and now, I might actually be talking to him, and I have not one damn intelligent question. So after hyperventilating on the phone with my editor at the magazine, we pulled it together, and I was ready to go.
So of course he doesn't show, but I still got to hang in the Conrad Hilton Suite and catch up with some of the folks I used to work with, plus find out what everyone else thought of Perry's speech, which gives me more fodder for the article I want to do.
Did I mention how cool my day was?Oh, whatEVER.
Got to the Hilton about 15 minutes before Perry was supposed to speak (took the Outer Drive downtown since every road between here and Chicago is a disaster) and was warmly welcomed by my former colleagues, most of whom didn't recognize me at first. I'd like to think it was because I was too hot for words, but more likely it was because I've gained weight. Or it could be because I was wearing my contacts. Anyway, my girl Kaffy, who still works at IEG, escorted me to the Continental Ballroom, where Mr. Farrell was giving his keynote. I was told I could sit anywhere I wanted, so I chose a table that was not too close, but far enough up front that I wouldn't have to watch him on the big sceeen.
About 15 minutes after I sat down, the lights went down, and a video higlighting Lollapalooza 2003 roared onto the screen. Since it wasn't in a This-is-what-it-is kind of format, it was funny watching the sponsorship people so not getting it, so not sure whether to laugh at the hijinks or whether to admit they were frightened of what was going to come next. I mean, hey! I can see Perry killing the $1,500 conference buzz for the 40-something Norah Jones set populating it.
And then, a little haltingly, he walked in.
For some reason, I was totally expecting him to be in a black suit with exaggerated pin stripes, kinda like the one Dave Navarro wore on his wedding day to Carmen. But I was at least in the ballpark: The man walked in wearing a well-tailored, vintage gray pin-striped suit with a dusty pink shirt and matching tie. I know, right? Much more conservative than I anticipated. And yeah, he really is that skinny. Couldn't tell how tall he is, but way thin. And totally out of his element talking to a bunch of business people.
But damned if he didn't pull it off.
I'm not going to go into what he talked about, because I was covering it, but aside from the fact that you could tell he was like whoa, this is so not my thing, he delivered a thoughtful, intelligent speech THAT I GOT TO SEE AND YOU DIDN'T! Bwahahahahahahahaha!
But it only got better from there. See, after he finished, I went to say hi to Lesa, the owner of the company, and to thank her for letting me sit in. And get this: She and her sister Laren, who also works for the company, told me that they thought Perry would be dropping in on the Conrad Hilton Suite for the exclusive cocktail party before the evening festivities and that if I WANTED TO GO, THEY WOULD GIVE ME A VIP PASS UP THERE! Holy Shit, right!?!?! I was stunned -- and totally unprepared; here I thought I was going to be listening to him speak, and now, I might actually be talking to him, and I have not one damn intelligent question. So after hyperventilating on the phone with my editor at the magazine, we pulled it together, and I was ready to go.
So of course he doesn't show, but I still got to hang in the Conrad Hilton Suite and catch up with some of the folks I used to work with, plus find out what everyone else thought of Perry's speech, which gives me more fodder for the article I want to do.
Did I mention how cool my day was?Oh, whatEVER.
Posted by Broad •
Pee-pee Dance of Joy •
