If life gets any more glamorous, I'm going to start pissing GLITTER. There I was, vis-à-vis the genius who NOT only discovered such TALENTS as Edith Massey and Ricki Lake, who NOT only defined PERVERSION for an entire NATION, who NOT only invented SINGING SPHINCTERS and SHIT-MUNCHING DRAG QUEENS, but also starred in my second-favorite Simpsons episode OF ALL TIME... that's RIGHT--I'm talking about THE Mr. JOHN WATERS! We met to discuss love and whimsy at the Greg Kucera Gallery last week.
First things first: John was wearing a rumpled, faded lavender leisure suit with pointy blue canvas shoes. And, yes: THE moustache. Flawless.
Busy Mr. Waters opened Hairspray starring Harvey Fierstein at Fifth Avenue Theater last week ("I loved it, I wouldn't change a thing"). He also premiered his delightful photographic exhibit at the aforementioned Greg Kucera Gallery, and spoke at the SIFF screening of his twisted opus Female Trouble at the Egyptian Theater. Here are some questions I managed to slip to John between hysterical outbursts of spontaneous adulation:
Did Johnny Depp stuff his tighty-whities in Cry Baby, or is his package REALLY that impressive? "He didn't stuff, but he did wear two pairs of underwear for some reason...."
And who does celebrity-obsessed John think is the ULTIMATE celebrity? "Jackie O. She's the only person who could refuse to give an autograph by simply saying, 'I'm sure you understand.'" (John does a terrific imitation of Jackie O.)
Next came MY favorite subject... l' amour! So how's things 'tween the sheets for the big gay King of Trash? "They're good!" REALLY? (I riveted him with my "don't even MAKE me get all Connie Chung" look.) "YES!" he insisted. Although there isn't anyone special he's planning to flit off to Amsterdam with to engage in unwholesome gay marriage ("Besides, I don't like Amsterdam"), John claims that his sex life is 23 skidoo... "and that's all I'm telling you, Adrian!" Fine.
Roseanne was John's secret date for the SIFF screening. She caught everyone by surprise and de-limoed in front of the Egyptian amid no fanfare but me waving and hooting like a lunatic. She looked WAY too happy to be there, and was escorted by a woman who could've been her twin, except for her freaky Michael Jackson nose. Roseanne was decked out like a fabulous marshmallow disco ball (off-white pantsuit with spangles), with horned-rimmed, rhinestone-studded glasses. Oh--and yes, she was chewing gum. As if you had to ask.