Laurie Sandell

Behind the scenes at a Glamour photo shoot

I’m sitting in a large white room at Smashbox Studios in Culver City, California, getting ready to do my next story for Glamour. There’s music blaring–the Glee soundtrack, of all things–and a woman dancing around and getting photographed in a gorgeous Dior dress. I’ve been here for hours, since shoots always last longer than they’re supposed to, so of course I’ve already eaten three lemon bars and a plate of steak.

The photographer's dog, Sontag

(Someone–I’m not naming names–has been my constant companion because of the steak, and it’s not my editor, Leslie, pictured left.) Much like a movie shoot, photo shoots are long and fairly arduous: Most of the energy happens in front of the camera; behind the scenes, there’s a lot of waiting around, checking e-mail, and, yes–eating lemon bars. Curses.

Wednesday night I’ll be featured on Brian Lehrer Live

Last year, I did an episode of  web show called Stacked Up–here’s a description of it:

A mashup of MTV’s Cribs, Oprah’s Book Club and The Paris Review, each five-minute Stacked Up episode will feature one of your favorite writers giving an insider’s tour of his or her library. We’ve found the best way to know writers is by the books they keep.

So today I got a call from Jill, co-creator of Stacked Up, to let me know that Brian Lehrer would be featuring the show–and a clip with me in it–on his live, hour-long TV show on CUNY TV. I won’t be watching since I’m in LA, but if you do happen to catch it, please tell me he aired the part about my love of Philip Roth and not the part about The Secret.

Two pinheads go to see Avatar

As one of the last people on earth to finally see Avatar, I went into the film with a few expectations. I knew it would be an astonishing visual experience but didn’t think the story would hold up all that well. I was wrong–I really loved it! I was entertained throughout and never bored; if I closed my eyes for five minutes it’s only because I didn’t get much sleep the night before. The theater itself was cool, too; we saw it in 3-D at the Dome at the Arc Light Cinema in Hollywood. The only real downside was that the glasses were huge and I have a pinhead, so they kept sliding down my nose. Julie and I were actually discussing the fact that we are both pinheads when we were ordering at the popcorn stand, and the guy behind the counter said, “How can you call two gorgeous girls like yourself pinheads?” I said, “It’s a fact, Jack–it’s not something we’re upset about, we just happen to have small heads. Hats and sunglasses don’t work. We’re just as God made us.” If plastic surgery for pinheads does, indeed, exist, I’m sure I’ll find it here in LA. But for now, I’m just going to have to live with it, and make extra cash performing in a traveling freak show.

A night of music in the Hollywood Hills

C. and I went to a great little dinner party last night, at the home of a talented director/musician. The place was filled with instruments, and apparently, they throw this party every few months, featuring a somewhat spontaneous performance by various guests. At the party I ran into Alexandra, a photographer I met a few years ago, who remembered me and my book; we completely hit it off. After dinner, we gathered in the music room and enjoyed a private show featuring many talented musicians, including Alexandra’s friend Eric Lumiere, who sang soulful, beautiful songs on the piano. I’m sure it went into the wee hours, but I crashed at around 11:30 PM and had to leave.

My new friend Alexandra

The full report from InStyle’s Golden Globes party

On the shuttle bus to the affair

Still buzzing from last night’s extravaganza, which was one of the most fun nights I’ve had in recent memory. My friend Amy Spencer and I watched the show and got ready at my house, stuffing our faces with so much Chinese food I, at least, was unable to fasten my dress until we arrived at The Beverly Hilton. Thanks to C., I was wearing a Leila Rose gown and carrying a Naeem Khan clutch. The jewels–a pair of cubic zirconia “shmimonds” from Bloomingdale’s–were mine.

The night began with a walk down the red carpet shamefully holding our coats as the paparazzi yelled, “Get out of the way!” so they could shoot Diane Kruger. We entered the party via The Godiva Room, a Willy-Wonka-like creation featuring plexiglass cubes filled with truffles and doubling as coffee tables; cascading chocolate towers; stations overflowing with chocolate-covered strawberries, truffles, nuts, and every imaginable Godiva product. After adding to my tight dress discomfort by sampling a few truffles, we headed inside to mingle.

Those legs belong to Stacy Keibler!

The first people I saw were Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy, who win the cutest Hollywood couple award (mainly because they’re one of the only married Hollywood couples left), and Courteney Cox, who was seated on a couch with her hubby, David Arquette. Amy and I made a few circles around the room, where we spotted Evangeline Lilly, Heidi Klum and Seal, Morgan Freeman sitting with Jeremy Irons, the entire cast of Glee, and Lindsay Lohan–though I didn’t realize it was her until the next day, when I saw photos of her in that crazy getup. Then Amy saw The Edge. Her sister toured with U2 for a year-and-a-half as their masseuse, so we got to sit with him and his wife for a while as every boldfaced name, manager, publicist, and random partygoer stopped by to pay homage.

Sampling a Godiva chocolate-covered strawberry

It was crazy the way people approached him: squatting down at his feet, bowing and putting their hands into prayer position, or bending at the waist as though approaching the Dalai Lama! Eventually we tired of The Edge (that’s a joke) and went out onto the smoking patio–second only to the bathroom for star-spotting. The first person we talked to was Bradley Cooper, whom Amy had interviewed.

We ran into Amy's friend Diego

He was polite but not über-friendly; the experience reminded me of talking to that random hot guy in college who looks over your shoulder the whole time he’s talking to you. We ended up in a little circle of guys that included Chris Kattan, who was talking on hyper-speed and being very funny. Christina Hendricks was draped over a nearby couch with her fiancee, Geoffrey Arend. We went to the bar to refill our drinks and saw the adorable Zac Efron with Vanessa Hudgens, and flirted with Topher Grace. Then Amy saw Chris Harrison, host of my all-time favorite show, The Bachelor, and brokered an introduction. He was in game-show-host mode, all smiles and a million miles away.

When we went to the bathroom we discovered stations manned by professional makeup artists, ready to touch us up, along with baskets of L’Oréal goodies. Back in the main room, I spotted Anna Lynn McCord–from behind, mind you, but I knew it was her–wearing a white, drapey, Grecian gown, and Neil Patrick Harris.

Hanging with Julie Benz from Dexter

Headed back out to the smoking patio and fell into a very long conversation with Julie Benz, who played Rita on Dexter. Turns out she’s obsessed with cooking, to the point that she wants to have her own cooking show.

At the end of the night we exited via The Godiva Room and ended up in conversation with an adorable, doe-eyed woman and her cute blonde boyfriend. Talked to her for a half-hour before we realized she plays Trudy Vogel, Pete Campbell’s wife on Mad Men. The four of us literally shut down the party and exited at around two in the morning, where Amy and I took our requisite photo in front of the InStyle step-and-repeat, then boarded the shuttle bus back to the parking garage. What can I say? It was a stellar, A+ night. THANK YOU, ARIEL FOXMAN!

Guess where I’m going tonight?

OK, not to the Golden Globes itself, but to the InStyle after-party! Which, in my opinion, is even better, since I’ll be nicely well-rested after watching the Globes at home. Yesterday, I went to pick up my ticket at the Beverly Hilton, where the show and after-parties are held; that’s when I snapped this photo. There was security everywhere, and the set and red carpet was bigger and more eye-popping than I’d ever imagined. Not sure, yet, what I’m wearing–I’ll be borrowing something from my roommate–but I’m spending today tearing around town getting a mani-pedi, blowout, and other assorted beauty treatments. I realize I’ve been a horribly delinquent blogger while settling into my life in LA, but I’ll post a full update tomorrow. Unless, of course, I’m still kicking it at an after-after party at Brad Pitt’s house.

I’ll be appearing on The Dr. Oz Show today

If you’re in New York, you’ve already missed it–sorry! If you’re in LA, it’s airing this afternoon on Fox 11 at 5:00 PM PST. Just got the heads up, which is why I’m posting about this now. I’ll be watching with Carole because it’s too painful to watch these things alone. For the record, I’m on the segment about Ambien addiction, which I believe is in the second half of the show–not the segment called, “When Sex is Painful.” Ahem.

Desperate Housewriters

WHICH former “lingerie” model, who recently split from her musician husband, is all washed up? So much so, she’s given her neighbors a soaking by stealing water from their outdoor hose to wash her fancy car.

Let the guessing games begin! Here’s the back story: Today I came home to find a tiny Porsche convertible parked in front of our house. It was dripping wet. I looked inside the car and saw a Gucci wallet sitting in the front seat, along with some keys. Weird, right? WELL. I e-mailed the owner of the house to ask if that was normal, and guess what she told me? Her neighbor steals water from her to wash her car!! She found out when she started having huge water bills; later, her nanny caught the woman in the act. Who does that? The owner of this house put a lock on the hose, but the gardner must have forgotten to replace it, because sure enough, when I checked the hose, it was dripping wet. I unscrewed it and put it into the garage. In related news, the other night Carole and I parked our cars facing the wrong way in front of our house. Both of our cars were ticketed in the morning! The tickets had been issued at 11:00 PM. We live on a dead-end street, which means someone called the cops on us. Drama! We love it. Oh, and here’s a photo of Carole, taken today on a hike through Fryman Canyon. My roommate hikes in an evening gown–isn’t she glamorous?

Get a load of L.A. life

I live here. In this house. With this view. Carole is staying in the upstairs bedroom, and I’m staying downstairs. We live on different floors, says the slack-jawed New Yorker. Our house, which belongs to a famous writer–not sure if I can reveal her name; I’ll ask her–is an architectural jewel designed by Rudolph M. Schindler, tucked away on a dead-end street in the Hollywood Hills. It has secret panels and passageways and a stunning view from the living room (see photo, right.) And this is my home for the next four months.

Perhaps you’re under the impression that I am mightily enjoying myself. Well you’d be mistaken–LA is full of hardship. When I drive, I have to shade my eyes from the sun. And when I took a hike through Fryman Canyon today (photos, bottom), I spent the whole time looking around for coyotes. Plus, I have to adjust to having a roommate–one who brought her own movie projector with her, along with dozens of music documentaries. Counting the days until I can come home.   

Ringing in 2010

Doing things a little bit backwards, here, since Amanda just sent me these photos. Went out with Amanda, her boyfriend Dave, Sarah Jones and Melissa Gelernter to a party hosted by Carole Radziwill and her good friend Doc (surgeon for The New York Rangers.) It was a slushy, rainy, freezing night and I was scheduled to leave for LA at 9:00 AM. I figured I’d stop by the party for an hour or so. Well, the party was so much fun–one of those crowds you just can’t put your finger on: all different ages and types, a few celebs (Matt Dillon and Gerard Butler), some sports stars–of course I didn’t leave until 1:30 AM. Then I ran around my apartment doing all those last-minute things you forget to do until the car is waiting outside to take you to the airport, like cleaning out your fridge. Once I got to my gate I ran into the novelist Emma Forrest, whose birthday party I’d just attended. Sarah Jones had given her my book and she’d already read it. She’s coming out with her own memoir, so we overshared about our lives until we were called onto the plane. Then we flew into balmy climes.