by James Tuttle
As I was barreling somewhat recklessly down Olympic Boulevard toward American Idol’s finale at downtown L.A.’s Nokia Theatre last week, my friend Mary sat in the passenger seat, calmly applying her eye shadow. “My Gaaad,” she said in her lovely Mid-western accent, “Jennifer Lopez has probably been in hair and makeup for three hours already.”
Brazilian idol: Sergio Bochert by Rick Day.
Within an hour, we were only a few feet away from La Lopez and it looked like Mary had called it pretty accurately. Jennifer was stunning in long-sleeved beaded Blumarine, but Mary in her black strapless floor-length Rick Owens gown was no slouch, either, even if she did do her makeup in the car.
Crowds surge. Cameras flash. We rush to seats. So many mill about. See friends. Wave. Wait. Waiting. Clear the aisles! Quiet! Five. Four. Three. Two. Ryan Seacrest.
I thought I was about to disappoint you once again by writing about live performances rather than the television shows that, together, we have come to love but I then happily realized that I’m not! Even though I may have been watching the live performance from an excellent seat at Nokia Theater/L.A. Live, you were watching it at the same time on the nation’s most beloved reality competition. Yes, it’s the American Idol finale!
Gaga ran into the Chinese beaded curtain on the way in and kept it.
Okay, I know, Chip McKinney, gay polo leader. You are going to say, “I was there, too! And I was actually sitting two rows in front of you, which technically makes my seat better.” But, for the sake of argument, let’s say the rest of you were watching the show from the comfort of your living room or kitchen or dungeon or whatever you’re into. And thanks for your (imagined) two cents, Chip.