Fate Just Keeps On Happening - Oscar Party Reflections

Is that a bandaid on your face or are you just happy to see me

With Elton John departing Twitter for greener, Nazi-free pastures, I have been reflecting on all the years I covered his Oscar Night galas. He was always on hand in full sparkle, as he raised money to help end the suffering of those with AIDS. Next to Elizabeth Taylor, I can’t think of a greater celebrity who did more to truly help care for those who needed support. He is dearly missed on the platform formerly known as Twitter.

My RadPod team just interviewed human rights activist Peter Tatchell where we learned that Sir Elton John is still actively promoting the important work of those who do good in this world. A stunning documentary film about Tatchell’s life Hating Peter Tatchell was produced by Sir Elton and his husband David Furnish.

As I open up memories from my Hollywood vault to share with you, I figured some moments from the Elton John Oscar parties I attended would be fitting.

‘Chris Farley Fail’

The first time I covered an Elton John Oscar Party, I was wearing a $20 Contempo Casual dress, because when you are in your 20s, you can rock a cheap dress. As usual, I had avoided valet parking, preferring to walk long distances to avoid paying fees. As I walked across an intersection to get to the party, a clearly besotted and schvitzing Chris Farley was walking in the opposite direction, having just left the party. He chose that moment in mid-stride to hit on me.

Despite being flattered at his taste in cheaply attired scribes, I was on the clock for Entertainment Weekly, and I had work to do. (I am noticing a pattern in my life.)

Farley was sweet and sweaty, and I demurred. I also knew I would be pulling an all-nighter to report on the parties I crashed, as well as the ones I had been invited to.

Invariably, I’d get to one party, hear about another one, including private celebrity parties, and off I would go. If you looked good in a cheap dress, you could get into anything, anywhere in Hollywood. I believe this rule still holds.

That was the year (‘93ish?) that I met my pals Jeff Kravitz and Johnny Dodd on the circuit, who then became my Oscar night running mates. (Kravitz would likely recall the dress.)

Year after year, fate just kept on happening.

I made a point to try to never miss an Elton John AIDS Foundation party. Sir Elton not only gave out the best swag, but it was the easiest party to let your hair down because the cause is so good and everyone loves Sir Elton. So people were less uptight about having media lurking behind the planters.

‘Arnold’s Epic One-Liner’

It was likely the Sir Elton party of ‘97 or ’98 when I showed up with a bandaid on my face. I’d long ago left the $20 dresses behind in favor of combat gear, i.e., comfortable platform boots that could take me up and the down the bleachers at the Oscars ceremony, backstage to any Governor’s Balls, off to Sir Elton’s party, and hit two, or three, four others parties throughout the night, until passing out on my typer after faxing in the copy. I kid you not.

By the middle late ‘90s, we were emailing, but nevertheless, there I was with the bandaid on my face. I had just removed a sunspot right in time in for the Oscars, and nothing could be done about that fact. As I loitered in the entrance of the main room, I heard the unmistakable voice of The Terminator: “That’s the best accessory I’ve seen all night.” It was Arnold Schwarzenegger whispering in my ear.

I still think it is the best line ever. In a room where everyone is bejeweled and bedazzled, my bandaid won.

Only a few feet away, Michael Douglas was getting an earshot of someone accusing him of not being a Zionist, and I just remember thinking how beautiful and strange this town of tinsel could be on occasion.

I recall interviewing Mike Meyers at a Sir Elton party, and feeling bad I’d bothered him because he was such an earnest, sweet man, taking great pains to give me a thoughtful answer to whatever dopey question EW had cued up for me that night (like, “What’s your favorite summer jam?”).

I remember asking Bono what he thought of MP3s at the House of Blues, because that was the question I was tasked with asking. Neither of us knew what we were taking about. Ah, the ‘90s. Someday, when we’re all dead, I’ll be able to write the real truth. (Like that night in ’94 we blew off Clapton just to hear Robert Downey Jr. play piano all night at the Hotel Bel Air. Billy Zane bought the rounds that night. Hmmm. I think I will write this next and just leave out the incriminating bits lol.)

Gee whiz, so many good times. I do recall a flirty Ellen DeGeneres when I was pregnant with my daughter in ‘99, but I do not recall which party we were at.

One epic memory was that night I got a posse of women as well as my friend Cesar into Jamie Foxx’s Oscar Party at the Vine Street Lounge, the night Foxx won for “Ray.” We got to hear him play piano while shimmying and basking in gratitude. I do believe I may have shared a doobie with a Real Housewife in the loo, but don’t quote me.

The nights with Denzel Washington and friends will always be my favorites. 

I recall celebrating the glow of Denzel Washington, two times. First, when I crashed his Oscar party at the restaurant Georgia on Melrose (’93ish?), and spent the night dancing with a pair of Wayans brothers and star photog Jeff Kravitz, who tipped me off to the shindig.

And then there was the second Denzel party, where I was actually on the list. It was at the Sunset Social Club and it was the most incredible guest list since Hole played the Viper Room acoustic (and me and Tom Hanks wept like babies at Courtney’s vulnerability).

I remember the night I almost missed the Oscar party Ian Shrager threw at the Mondrian (’97ish?) because my friend Jill who was charged with making everyone in Hollywood look beautiful could not figure out what to do with her own hair. We made it just in time to hang out with David Arquette, who was wearing a beautiful white gardenia in his lapel.

There were times when I, too, had trouble suiting up. Like the night I was too verklempt to speak (it was 2006ish and the Oscars fell on a day during the Iraq War where images of American prisoners of war were haunting me). Famed publicist Steve Valentine gallantly stepped in and helped me get through the night, even scoring a lovely tribute quote to the soldiers from Paris Hilton. The same Steve Valentine who let me crash Denzel’s first Oscar party a decade earlier.

So many memories. 

I am glad I finally have an audience to share them with. This should be fun. 🤍

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