Our Madonna high took us through several more songs until near collapse. She told me later in broken English about her shows. From what I gather she has two, one is perhaps like Celebrity Survivor and the other is maybe a cross between a sports show and SNL. I don't really know but she's the biggest star in Italy so I thought it best not to insult her for details. I don't know her name but hope to see her on a television or dancefloor soon.
Several of us retired to the Hemingway Bar upstairs at the Ritz. At the table beside us we found Kate Moss with singer Donovan Leitch and several other Euros. To me Kate looked great and it looked like she was drinking Evian. My jaded companion argued his interpretation: a distinct bloat, a fall off the wagon, and a large vodka soda. Several rounds later, as Bruce spills his Bordeaux all over his suit, we shut down the bar and leave Moss' party in deep conversation.
We are starved and up to our throats with champagne. It's after 3 and the Hotel Costes is blaring chillout music, lit by hundreds of candles with not a sole in sight. Who are they awaiting? Us, we figure. Can we sit and have dinner in this red gilded perfection? Of course we can, we're told. He eats pasta, I eat an omelette with toasts served sans crust. A little more champagne before bed and a Paris night is over.